The Illustrated Man
by ucsbdad
Summary: What seems like a standard pop and drop murder becomes much more complex for Castle and Beckett, and old friends, new friends and old enemies and new enemies make an appearance. Or do they? The moral of this chapter is: What could possibly go wrong?
1. Chapter 1

The Illustrated Man

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: I checked again. I do not own Castle. Rating: K+ I suppose, but we'll get into M eventually, but not this chapter. Time: Season Seven?

The 12th Precinct's homicide team stood in a grim, dark alley just after dawn looking at the body between them. Lanie and Kate were kneeling beside the corpse, Ryan and Esposito stood together and Castle stood just behind Kate. Uniformed officers searched the area.

"Cause of death looks obvious." Kate muttered.

Lanie nodded. "I'd agree, but I've been surprised in the past. But, three large caliber gunshot wounds in the back would be a good guess." She pointed to the corpse, lying face down in the alley. "These two shots appear to have been fired from a distance, probably from the far end of the alley. This one, as you can see from the muzzle flash burns and the stippling, was fired from close range. Less than a foot, I'd guess."

"Time of death?"

"Based on liver temp, I'd say two to four hours ago, provisionally. I'll know better when I get him back to the morgue.

"So, between two and four AM?" Kate asked. Lanie nodded.

"I blame GPS." Castle said.

"GPS, Bro?" Both Ryan and Esposito smiled.

"You bet. All of the GPS directions are made up by a bunch of geeks in Silicon Valley. They just tell you the shortest way to get from point A to point B, not what the trip will be like." Castle imitated the mechanical voice of a GPS unit. "To get to John F. Kennedy International Airport, walk five hundred meters to the north and then cross the tiger enclosure at the Bronx Zoo."

Kate rolled her eyes. "Then we should be looking for a heavily armed tiger?"

Castle shrugged. "Not so far-fetched. People do genetic modifications on plants, soon it'll be with animals and then people."

"Gangs of urban coyotes holding up convenience stores for junk food?" Espo asked.

"Raccoons already have masks, they'll be burglars." Ryan added.

"Wait until you have to bring in a drunk and disorderly grizzly bear." Castle teased.

"Could we try to concentrate on this present day murder? Have the uniforms found anything?"

"Here comes one now, Beckett. What'd you find, LT?"

LT handed Esposito a clear plastic evidence bag. Espo examined it. "Forty five caliber shell casings. Three of them."

"We found the weapon." Another uniform handed Esposito another bag, this one containing a pistol. "And the forty five they were fired from, I'll bet."

"Can we roll him over and get a look at his face?" Kate asked Lanie, who nodded, and Esposito and Ryan rolled the corpse over.

"Nice suit." Castle commented. "Looks hand made. Let me check the label." Castle pulled back the coat. "Hacer de medida?" Castle read from the label.

"Made for, bro." Espo translated. "It's a tailor made suit."

Castle examined the shirt. "Silk shirt and a silk tie. Nice shoes, too." Castle stood. "So, our vic was walking in a dark alley, minding his own business and someone shot him. Not a very interesting murder."

"We do our poor best, Castle." Ryan said with a smile.

"We have his wallet, I think." LT said, handing the evidence bag to Kate. She took the wallet out and looked inside. "Money and credit cards are gone. His watch and cell are gone, too. So I'd guess a robbery." She pulled out the driver's license. "Our vic is one Hernan Guererro from New Mexico. It gives an address in Santa Fe." She pulled out a business card. "New Mexico Sporting Goods." She read. "Hernan Guererro, owner. New Mexico's best stop for all your hunting, fishing and outdoor needs."

"So the hunter became the hunted? "Castle joked. "Maybe we should be looking for some angry New Mexican animal. Maybe a javelina?"

"With an empty shoulder holster?" Beckett said sarcastically, holding up the bag holding the gun.

Kate looked own the alley. "There are a couple of late night clubs a block or two down the street. Have the uniforms canvas them, see if they know anything." She turned to Castle, "I think we can head back to the precinct."

Kate began the paperwork on the case as soon as she got back to the precinct. Castle was busy on his phone. "And you're helping the investigation how?" She asked.

"I've Googled our vic's business. He had quite an operation, three stores in the greater Santa Fe area. From the ads, the stores look large. So, a prosperous businessman on a trip to the big apple goes to the wrong place at the wrong time, attracts the wrong person and gets shot. Not much of a murder. I think I'll go back to the loft. See you later?"

Before she could reply, her phone rang. She picked it up and listened. "That was Lanie. She has something for us."

Castle looked at his watch. "So soon? That must set a new world's record for an autopsy. Shall we go?"

They walked to the elevator and went down to the morgue.

"What do you have?" Kate asked.

"Did you use a chain saw rather than a scalpel this time?"

"I haven't opened him up yet, Castle, so no chain saw. But I was very surprised when I got his clothes off."

"Funny, Beckett said the same thing."

Kate glared at Castle. "What's the surprise?"

"Look." Lanie pulled the sheet off of the vic.

"Wow!" Castle said.

"Tattoos, lots of them." Kate added.

"Look at these two." Lanie pointed to the man's left chest and right shoulder. "The bloody knife in the heart and the crying eye are crudely done. Not professional at all."

"Prison tattoos?" Kate guessed.

"Probably. I'll run them through the tattoo data base and see if we get anything. The other tattoos are professionally done. He has four with the same theme." Lanie pointed them out. "A skeletal woman, I think it's a woman anyway, wearing a cape, a crown and holding a scythe and a globe. I'm not sure what it means…"

"Santa Muerte." Castle said. "Saint Death. It's a Mexican folk religion, and it's popular with some Mexican gangsters. Mostly low level ones, but a couple of the leaders of the Gulf Cartel were believers. Our vic is a Mexican gangster."

"Who owns a store that sells guns. Lots of guns, I'll bet. Lanie, get his fingerprints and see if he's in the system. If he has prison tats, I'm sure he is.

Lanie nodded. "I'll let you know what I find on the autopsy. I'll get it to you as soon as I can."

Castle went back with Kate to the bullpen. "I thought you were bored?" She said with a smile.

"With a dead worshipper of Santa Muerte downstairs? You're kidding. Drug gangs and religion? This is a dream case."

"Not for our vic. But tell me, Castle, how did you learn about Saint Death?"

He shrugged. "I thought I'd have Derreck Storm tangle with the Mexican mob once, but the story went nowhere. But I actually met a follower of the religion. He was a nice guy, not one of your tatted up gangster types. He had a wife, three kids and ran a small grocery in the Bronx. He told me that contrary to beliefs by the gangsters, that Santa Muerte isn't an evil saint, but is a fallen angel in purgatory, trying to win back God's graces. He said that's why she grants so many miracles. He worked a lot at night in his store and told me that she's sometimes called La Senora del la Noche, the lady of the night, she'd protect those who work at night, like policeman, taxi drivers, soldiers and prostitutes. He said that she'd protect them from violence. "

"Didn't help our vic." Kate muttered. "Can we talk to your friend? Maybe find out more about the religion?"

"I don't know. It's been years since I talked to him, but I should have his address. I'll see if I can locate him."

While Kate did her paperwork, Castle used his phone to try to find out more about their vic, his business and Santa Muerte.

"Any luck?" Kate asked when Rick put down his phone.

"No much. There's really nothing about our vic online. I read some of the reviews on his stores. Apparently he sells a lot of first class food for campers and other outdoorsmen. Freeze dried stuff that's apparently tasty as well as convenient. He did sell all kinds of weapons, though. I didn't find any more about Santa Muerte, though. Nothing we don't already know."

Kate's phone rang with a text. "That's Lanie. She has something for us."

"Let's go then." Rick was already headed for the elevator.

"What do you have, Lanie?" Rick and Kate asked together.

"That is just too cute, you two."

"We don't do it to be cute, it just happens." Kate said.

"So you say."

"And you called us for…?" Rick suggested.

"Ballistics are back. Bad news. The killer used some kind of explosive slugs, from what I took out of the vic, the killer may have hollowed out the original slugs and filled them with mercury. Ballistics wasn't able to get enough striations off the slugs to match it to the barrel of the gun we found at the crime scene."

"No fingerprints on the weapon, I'll bet."

"Completely clean, Castle. And there's more. The serial number shows it was manufactured in the early fifties, but the barrel, the springs and the sights are brand new. I'm betting we won't find the slugs from the gun in any database."

"Someone put in a new barrel in an old pistol, added new hardware as needed and used it just once, I'll bet. Sounds like a professional job." Kate said under her breath.

"Beckett, are there any Mexican gangs in New York?"

She shook her head. "Not many Mexicans at all. We have Puerto Ricans, Cubans, Central Americans and even South American gangs here, but not many Mexicans."

"So we have a New Mexican hit in New York. I'll bet someone back home hired a local to do the job on our vic."

"Which will make this even harder to solve. All of his enemies back in New Mexico will have iron clad alibis. They were all thousands of miles away. And our local hit man will have no connection with the vic at all, except for a contract on him."

"There's a little more." Lanie added. "Cause of death was as we thought. GSW. The killer only needed the two. The vic was dead by the time the third shot was fired. And I found something interesting on his clothes. He had some slight oil stains on the inside of the back of his trousers."

"Oil stains?" Kate frowned.

"I'm betting it's gun oil, but I sent a sample to the lab for analysis. I'll let you know when I know."

"So he probably had a gun tucked into his pants. Thanks, Lanie. Castle, time to go home?"

"With you, always."

Once at home, Kate started dinner and Castle went into his office. After a bit, Kate came in and sat on his lap. "Working on a book?"

"Not directly. I'm going over my research on Santa Muerte. One interesting thing, apparently she has about as many worshippers in the Mexican police and military as in the gangs. Probably because they recruit from the same poor working class base."

"Could our killer be a cop?" Kate asked, frowning.

"If he's a local shooter, probably not. But, you can never tell. Santa Muerte has a lot of nicknames: The Skinny Lady, the Bony Lady, the White Girl, the White Sister, the Pretty Girl, and interestingly enough, the Godmother."

"Dona Corleone?"

"Probably not. But the worship or at least adoration of saints is popular in Mexico. According to my notes, practicing Catholics will pray to Santa Muerte and build little shrines to her, right alongside shrines to the Virgin Mary or the Virgin of Guadalupe."

"Does any of this help our case?"

"Not now, but you can never tell. Always remember, Detective Beckett, it's always about the story. Once you know the story, everything is clear."

"I'm Detective Beckett now?" She said, leaning close to him.

"I was thinking of calling you Grasshopper."

"You'd better not, Kitten."

"Why don't we…"

"Let me get up. I think dinner needs my attention."

"I need your attention." Rick said to Kate's retreating form.

The next day, the two arrived at the precinct early. Rick was carrying the usual two coffees, even though Kate had had her morning cup at the loft.

"What did we get on our vic, Guerrero?"

"Absolutely nothing, Beckett." Espo replied. "A great big nada."

"Nothing? He's not in the system? That's hard to believe."

"No, I mean we've heard nothing back. Not a word from the FBI. What we did get is a visit from the Feds." Espo pointed to Gates's office. "Your old friend Special Agent Sorenson arrived with half a dozen other feds in tow about fifteen minutes ago. He's been with Gates ever since."

Late and Rick peered into Gates's office. They could see Sorenson leaning over the Captain's desk, saying something very forcefully.

"That's not the best way to get on her good side." Castle said.

"There's a way to get on her good side?" Ryan asked. "How would you know?"

"Captain Gates is warming to me. Just the other day she smiled at me."

"She was probably imagining throwing you out her window." Kate smirked.

"Whoa!" Espo cautioned. "Looks like the meeting's breaking up."

The Feds trooped out of Gates's office and headed for the conference room. Gates was the last one out. She motioned to Kate and her team. "You too. Come along. The Feds have news for us."

Kate caught up to the Captain. "What happened in there? Sorenson looked a little…brusque."

"Brusque? Why no, Detective." Gates said sarcastically. "He was just as polite as any of those self-centered, obnoxious Federal…" She stopped. "There's no problem, Beckett."

Everyone moved into the conference room. Sorenson stood in front. "I'm Special Agent Sorenson, FBI. I'll be handling the investigation into Hernan Guererro's murder. With me is Special Agent Hawkins, DEA, and Special Agent Woodson, ATF, and their teams." The two agents nodded to the detectives, but neither indicated which was which.

Castle heard the door open behind them. Sorenson looked up and glared at the newcomers.

"What the hell are you three doing here? No, I don't care. Get out. This investigation has nothing to do with the likes of you."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own plenty of no Castle. Rating: K+ Time: Season Seven?

Castle turned around with everyone else in the room to look at the newcomers. From the neck down, they were standard issue Feds: highly polished black shoes, dark blue suits, white shirts and conservative striped ties. From the neck up, they were something out of a John Ford western. Castle thought they should be sitting on their ponies carefully watching a patrol of the Cavalry or a wagon train.

"We were invited." Said the biggest one, apparently the leader. "Guerrero was one of us. Besides we have an open case on him."

"Like hell!" Sorenson spat. "I will not have you on this case. Get out. Get out now!"

The big one smiled. "Can't do that. And I don't think your bosses will back you."

"We'll see." Sorenson stalked to the back of the conference room and began muttering angrily into his phone.

"Howdy, folks. Allow me to introduce myself and my people. I'm Captain Elias Dos Osos, Tribal Police, Blood Canyon Apaches, New Mexico. Back a century or so ago we Apaches got ourselves all civilized, so we took mostly Spanish names. My last name means Two Bears, but you can just call me Bear."

Castle decided Two Bears was more like it. The captain was at least six feet, eight inches and looked to be at least three hundred pounds. Castle thought he was mostly bone and muscle.

"To my right is Sergeant Jose Cuchillo." Cuchillo smiled and nodded to everyone.

Cuchillo was a smaller version of the captain. Six one or two, he looked to Castle to be about two hundred and twenty pounds. Again, solid bone and muscle.

"To my left is Sergeant Martin Bredi."

Bredi was about the same height as his fellow sergeant, but more slender. Castle guessed about one eighty. He didn't smile. Not one bit. Castle thought he looked like he didn't smile at all.

Sorenson cursed and walked back to the center of the conference room. "You can stay." He said without looking at the three Native Americans.

Sorenson looked at Castle and smiled nastily. "Them I have to keep around, but there's no room for a civilian on this case. Get lost."

"I beg your pardon, but I determine the personnel on my homicide team." To Castle's surprise, it was Captain Gates who was speaking.

Sorenson stared at Gates. Gates stared back.

"Captain Gates, this investigation has no room for civilian amateurs. Castle is out. That is my decision and it stands."

Gates smiled. "We are cooperating with the Federal authorities, but that doesn't mean you run my precinct. Mr. Castle is a civilian investigator with the homicide team and he is here with my complete approval, and that of the Chief of Police, the Commissioner and the Mayor of New York. You may try to kick Mr. Castle out, but I suggest you'll be wasting valuable time."

Sorenson glared daggers at Gates, but then looked away.

"So, Kate, you're still hanging around with the writer monkey?"

Kate put her arms around Castle. "Oh, more than hanging around with him. I've been married to him for four months now. I'm Mrs. Writer Monkey."

Sorenson turned white. "I always knew you were a slut, Kate, but I didn't realize you were a whore, spreading your legs to catch a millionaire." Sorenson had looked down at some papers in his hand and didn't see Kate shoot out of her chair and stride angrily towards him. By the time he saw her and raised his hands to defend himself, it was too late. Kate's fist slammed into his mouth and he went down.

"Stand up you son of a bitch!" Kate hissed at the prone agent.

Kate felt a pair of hands on her shoulder and a familiar voice spoke in her ear. "Back off if you please, Detective Beckett." The hands gently pulled Kate back.

"I'm Special Agent Jordan Shaw. I've been sent up from DC to run this case." She turned to Sorenson who was getting up off the floor. "I assume you were told that, Agent Sorenson?"

"She hit me!" Sorenson responded.

"I know." Shaw turned around, "Mr. Castle could you…" Shaw stopped and she made a sound that sounded like a strangled laugh.

Kate turned around and saw the reason for Shaw's laugh. Captain Dos Osos was holding Castle about a foot off the ground, his massive hands were around Castle's biceps. Dos Osos didn't seem to be having any problem holding Castle.

Shaw smiled. "Captain Dos Osos, could you let Mr. Castle down, please?" Dos Osos put Rick down carefully. Shaw smiled at Rick. "Mr. Castle, will you please take Detective Beckett to the break room and get her a cup of coffee? And you two please remain there until I come to see you."

Rick and Kate walked to the break room. Castle closed the door and busied himself with the coffee machine.

"If that guy hadn't stopped me, I'd have decked Sorenson, too." Rick muttered.

"I shouldn't have hit him." Kate said quietly. "I'll have to apologize."

"What? Why the hell should you have to apologize? He called you…" Castle found he couldn't say those words about Kate.

"I know, Rick. But it comes with the territory. This is a male dominated profession. There are officers who think all policewomen are whores, or lesbians, or frigid, or man haters, or…Well, I've been called all of those, but not usually to my face. It's just that that particular insult gets under my skin. I still shouldn't have lost my cool."

"Wait a minute?' That particular insult? Someone else has said you married me because I'm rich? That's absurd. Anyone who knows us…"

"A lot of people don't know us, Castle." Kate switched to an exaggerated Brooklyn accent. "I saw that Detective Beckett from the One Two. You know the one who wiggled her skinny ass at that writer? Yeah, now she sleeps on silk sheets and got that Castle to ask her to marry him. At least there'll be an opening for a detective soon. That little slut won't risk her wealthy little ass on the streets anymore."

"Tell me who said that." Rick said angrily.

Kate shook her head. "I overheard it at One Police Plaza. I have no idea who that woman was and I don't care. We got married because we're in love." Kate smiled at Rick. "Besides, a former Special Forces sniper is a lot more intimidating than a writer. Most people know that insulting me will bring them to Esposito's attention."

There was a knock at the door. "That'll be Shaw. " Kate said. "Time to take my medicine."

"This sucks."

However, when the door opened, it was Sergeant Cuchillo, holding one of the precinct's medical kits.

"Detective Beckett? I noticed you cut yourself on that fellow's mouth. I'd better clean you up." He walked over and opened the medical kit.

"That's not really necessary. I'm fine."

Cuchillo shook his head determinedly. "You have no idea how many germs live in the human mouth, ma'am. And we don't know where that particular mouth has been. Nowhere good, is my guess. I know what I'm talking about. I used to be a medic, Third Ranger Battalion." He raised his pant leg to show a prosthetic leg. "Ran into an IED in Iraq. They told me I couldn't be a combat medic anymore. They gave me a choice between a medical retirement, or retraining as an operating room nurse. I'm an Apache. I don't work indoors. So I took the retirement and went to work for Bear."

Cuchillo began working on Kate's hand. "She's your wife, sir?" He asked Castle, who nodded. "Good for you. She's a fighter. Like an Apache woman."

"She's remarkable, all right."

There was another knock on the door. This time it was Agent Shaw.

"Is Detective Beckett injured, Sergeant Cuchillo?" She asked.

Cuchillo shook his head. "Not really, ma'am. Just some shallow cuts. I've cleaned them up, put some antibiotics on them and now I'm just putting a bandage on her. I'll be done in just a sec."

Cuchillo finished up and left. Jordan Shaw smiled at the two. "So, how long have you two been sleeping together?"

They all laughed. Kate answered. "A little over two years. We've been married for a bit over four months."

Rick pulled out is phone. "Four months, three days, fourteen hours and…" Rick checked his phone. "Thirty seconds…Now! But who's counting."

Kate's smile faded. "I'm sorry for hitting Agent Sorenson. There's no excuse for what I did. I want to apologize to him, and I do want to stay on this case, Agent Shaw."

Shaw smiled. "Like hell you'll apologize to him. I sent him back to the local FBI office with his tail between his legs." She put her hand on Kate's shoulder. "Kate, I've heard every insult you've heard because we're women in a man's world." Shaw smiled again. "Except maybe for sleeping with a millionaire. No one's accused me of that." She was again serious. "I won't put up with that kind of insults from anyone. You are on the case and Sorenson is off. End of discussion."

Kate shook her head. "I don't understand why he was so angry at me. It's been a long time since we dated, and we weren't all that close. At least I didn't think we were. Was he in love with me for all these years?"

Jordan Shaw sighed. "Kate, I suppose I should tell you the sad tale of Will Sorenson. I suppose seeing both you and Captain Dos Osos today pushed him just too hard and he snapped."

"He knows Captain Dos Osos too?"

"Will Sorenson was one of the rising stars in the Bureau. After New York he was sent to New Orleans where he broke a couple of major cases. He was rewarded with a plum assignment, heading up the inter-agency anti-narcotics task force in Los Angeles. All that was needed was approval from DC, which has always been just automatic. Kate, you were a Fed for a while, right?"

Kate smiled sheepishly. "My short and inglorious career? Yes."

"Don't sell yourself short. You impressed a lot of people in DC, including Agent Rachel McCord. She liked you a lot and was very unhappy you were fired. She was unhappy about why you were fired, too. She complained, within channels, that SecDef Reed should have at least been investigated for obstruction of justice and that the CIA had crossed the line with Ms. Renkov, and that you didn't deserve to be fired. Unfortunately she brought this up to…Well, let's just call him a high ranking official within Justice, with witnesses present, unfortunately. He told her she was wrong and was quite nasty about it. She said the Bureau had no business covering up politician's blunders. He disagreed. Quite forcefully. Eventually, McCord told him that he was an incompetent buffoon who had only gotten where he was by kissing every ass he could get his lips on. Then she stormed out of the room."

"Oh my, God!" Kate blurted out. "Was she fired?"

"The official wanted to fire her. And just between us, Rachel was right about him, but he has political connections. Rachel went to her boss and said she wanted a transfer. Apparently there were other people who felt the same about covering for politicians because four other agents also asked to be transferred out of the Attorney General's Special Investigative Unit. That is unheard of. No one asks to be transferred out. You can be promoted on to bigger and better things, but the job is usually the peak of an agent's career."

"What happened?" Castle asked.

"The Attorney General heard that five of his best agents wanted out of his investigative unit. That would have gutted the unit. The AG was not happy. But on the other hand, he had one of his underlings and his political pals to keep happy. So, the AG decided to transfer McCord, but make it look like a promotion."

"She got the job in LA, not Sorenson." Castle guessed.

"Right. Sorenson was already in LA, looking for a place to live when he found out. The AG didn't want to air their dirty laundry, so there was no explanation."

"But plenty on rumors?" Kate added.

"Right. And prominently mentioned was the name Kate Beckett."

"What happened to Sorenson?"

"They didn't want to keep him in LA after so publicly being not promoted, so they sent him to the first available opening."

"New Mexico?" Kate guessed again.

Jordan nodded. "You guessed it."

"What happened with Captain Dos Osos?" Castle asked.

"The Blood Canyon Apaches may be the poorest tribe in the US. Nothing on their reservation but miles and miles of miles and miles, right on the border with Mexico. Perhaps because they're poor, they emphasize the old ways. Young Apaches go to BIA schools, but they also learn how to shoot, track, and survive in the desert. Do you know that last year one hundred percent of their high school graduating class went into the military? A lot of them stay in the military and don't come back. Some like Dos Osos retire and come back. He was a Marine NCO and one of the first people chosen for the Marine Special Ops unit. Cuchillo was a Ranger and Bredi was a Navy Seal."

"Now these are just rumors, you'll understand, but for years people have said that if you try to smuggle drugs, guns, people, anything at all through their reservation, you'll end up dead. The Blood Canyon Apaches have a reputation for solving their own problems their own way."

"And Sorenson heard about that?" Castle asked.

"He started an investigation. He thought he had a police death squad operating in his jurisdiction. Who knows, maybe there is one, I don't know. He quickly found that southern New Mexico was full of Native Americans, Mexican Americans and Anglo cowboys who hadn't seen or heard a damned thing. So, he leaned on people. I guess he was upset about LA and leaned too hard. People complained to their elected leaders about him, he kept leaning hard and eventually, the Bureau decided to transfer him. It seems that Native Americans, Mexican Americans and Anglo cowboys are quite a large slice of the New Mexican electorate."

"That must have pissed him off even more." Castle didn't sound unhappy about that.

Jordan nodded. "He was sent off to Europe. What do you know about North Korea?"

Castle shrugged. "It's not in Europe and it was on the bottom of the list of places to go on our honeymoon."

"It's also very poor, Castle. But North Korean diplomats are expected to use their diplomatic immunity to make money. They sell drugs, weapons, counterfeit currency, and anything and everything at all. Sorenson got onto some North Korean diplomats who were selling counterfeit US hundreds to a group of British jihadists. He wasn't getting the cooperation he thought he should be getting from the British, so he set up his own little raid and caught two diplomats, a crate of fake hundreds and a half a dozen young radicals."

"And that was bad?" Kate asked.

"One of the radicals was an undercover British cop. Sorenson got some diplomats who were protected by diplomatic immunity and a bunch of low level jihadis. The Brits had to pull their undercover cop out. The people behind the jihadis were safe, there was no evidence linking them to anything. The Brits were furious and demanded that Sorenson be sent home."

"Bummer." Castle muttered.

"So Sorenson ended up back in New York working for a woman that used to work for him, and known as the guy who'd screwed up somehow in LA, New Mexico and the UK. He's been pushing paperwork around for a little less than a year here with no real chance of advancement. He must have come over here hoping that he'd make some miracle discovery before I arrived."

"I'm kind of sorry for him." Kate said.

Jordan shrugged. "Shall we go back and I'll brief you and the rest on Hernan Guererro?"


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: As Master Po said to me, "You own no Castle, Grasshopper." Or did he say cattle? Rating: K+ Time: Season Seven?

Jordan Shaw led Rick and Kate back to the conference room. As Rick and Kate sat back down, Jordan stood to speak. "As I said, I'm Special Agent Jordan Shaw and I'll be leading this investigation. I normally have a large team with me, but they're on another project that I'm not at liberty to discuss. However, I do have Special Agent Sandy Hayes with me." She pointed to a tall, skinny, plain woman who was staring intently at the floor. "Hayes can make any electronic device sit up and sing, believe me she's a genius. Now perhaps my Federal colleagues can introduce themselves?"

Hawkins of the DEA and his team appeared to have come from the same white, male Federal box. They wore the same blue suits, had the same carefully trimmed hair and the same superior looks on their faces. Castle disliked them at once.

Woodson of the ATF was different. Instead of the usual white shirt, he wore a light blue polo shirt under his blue suit. Agent Paoli was short, swarthy and heavily built and sported a full beard. The other ATF agent, named Jane Smith, of all things, was tall, slender, had cinnamon colored skin, light blue eyes and a definite epicanthic eye fold. Castle wondered what her ancestry was. He noticed that Esposito seemed to be interested as well, but guessed that he wasn't concerned with her DNA.

As Captain Dos Osos had already introduced his team, Shaw turned to the detectives of the 12th Precinct. "I've worked with these people before, except for Captain Gates, but I have every confidence in her abilities, as I do with Detectives Esposito and Ryan." The two nodded as their names were mentioned. "Detective Beckett and Mr. Castle are different. I consider them to be the best two homicide detectives I've ever met. With Captain Gate's permission, they will lead the murder investigation. You will consider any request coming from those two as coming directly from me. Is that understood?"

Castle was surprised at this, but no one objected although the DEA agents didn't seem too thrilled.

"Now, to business. I'm sure our NYPD colleagues are curious as to why the murder of Hernan Guerrero has brought such a Federal response. Guerrero was the biggest supplier of weapons to the Mexican drug cartels and to drug gangs in the US. He operated all along the US-Mexican border from the Brownsville, Texas-Matamoros, Mexico metroplex all the way to the San Diego, Tijuana area. We have the phones and financials that the 12th was asking for, but I don't know if they'll be a help. Guerrero rarely used phones, preferring to work through verbal orders to trusted lieutenants and he's a genius at hiding his cash flow. We've never been able to successfully infiltrate anyone into his organization beyond the lowest levels and we've never arrested anyone in his organization that could give us any useful intel on him. He was very, very good."

Esposito shrugged. "Not good enough to avoid being shot in a New York Alley."

Jordan turned to the DEA and ATF agents. "What I want you to do is go back to your New York offices and get in touch with all of your people along the border. I want DEA to pick up what they can from the cartels. With Guerrero dead, they'll be looking for a new source of weapons. ATF, do the same on this side of the border. Guerrero bought mainly stolen weapons and the thieves he used will need a new buyer. Reach out to other Federal and local agencies. I'll remain here with the murder investigation. If there are no questions, let's get to work."

As the meeting broke up, Castle walked over to Captain Gates. "Um, Captain, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"What is it, Mr. Castle?"

"I was a little surprised at you defending me with Sorenson in there?"

Gates gave Castle a look. "Mr. Castle, I've made no secret that you are not my favorite person. I find you difficult at best and usually…trying. However, I'm not blind. You do add value to this precinct in your own…unique manner. You also come with certain resources that do not come out of my inadequate budget. In addition, I'm sure that Detective Beckett would keep you fully informed on the investigation. Lastly, that Agent Sorenson was the most…Well, you're still on the case, Mr. Castle."

Castle though he saw the hint of a smile on the captain's face, but decided not to push things. "Well, thank you."

"Is that all, Mr. Castle?"

"Um, yes."

"Then get back to work."

Castle found the three Apache policemen clustered around Esposito's desk.

"I hope no one minds, but we don't have a New York office to go to, so we'd like to hang out here. We can help with the murder investigation. We know Guerrero and the people he worked with. All kinds of local knowledge that might help." Dos Osos said with a smile.

Kate glanced over to Gates' office. "I don't have any problem with that, but I'll have to run it by the captain. But, you said that Guerrero was one of yours?"

Dos Osos nodded. "He wasn't a pure blooded Apache, he had some white and Mexican ancestors, but he was legally an Apache. His family didn't live on the reservation, though. They headed for Santa Fe before he was born. He went there a few times as a kid to see relatives, but that's it.'

"What about arrests?" Castle asked.

"He did two years in Arizona at nineteen for possession of stolen property, some pistols. Our records show he was convicted in Mexico of murder, but somehow he never served any time and the records disappeared."

"How convenient." Esposito said sarcastically.

"You said you had an open case on him?" Kate asked.

"An old case. About five years ago one of his cousins who was a close associate of his was found dead on the reservation. Single GSW in the back of the head. Word was he was ambitious and wanted to go into business for himself."

"Good way to get killed." Ryan said. The detective looked at Sergeant Bredi. "The other's names are Spanish. Is Bredi an Apache name?"

Dos Osos and Cuchillo laughed. "Why detective," Cuchillo said, "Bredi is an Irish name. In Spanish it's spelled B-R-E-D-I, but in English it's Brady."

Dos Osos nodded. "His grandpa was a sailor on a British oil tanker when the Second World War began back in nineteen and thirty nine. He figured a highly inflammable oil tanker in the middle of a war was no place for a good Irish boy, so he jumped ship in Tampico. Hung around Mexico for a while and ended up in New Mexico."

"Bredi was a Navy SEAL?" Castle asked.

"That he was." Said Cuchillo.

"What'd he do?"

Cuchillo laughed. "Why, he killed folks."

"Does he talk?" Kate asked.

"Bredi?" the captain said with a smile. "Why he's a regular chatterbox when he has something to say. He just don't have much to say otherwise. Ain't that so, Martin?"

Bredi gave a slight nod, and the two other Apache's laughed.

Castle wondered about the alleged police death squad on the reservation. Bredi looked like a candidate. He put that thought out of his mind.

"Okay, to work." Kate said briskly. "Guerrero was staying at the Warwick in midtown. Why don't Espo and Ryan go over there with Bear and his team and Castle and I will…?" She noticed Castle trying to get her attention.

"I called my friend the Santa Muerte worshipper and he's still in the Bronx. He can see is now if we hurry."

"Okay, we'll see if he can help us. Everybody keep Agent Shaw in the loop."

Kate had been sitting in Mr. Robles' comfortable living room for five minutes. She was looking at the small shrine with a picture of Jesus in the center, a Hispanic looking woman in a blue gown on the right and Santa Muerte on the left. She already knew they'd learn nothing here.

"As I told you before when we met Mr. Castle, we believe that Santa Muerte is the fallen eighth archangel. She is in purgatory and wishes to regain God's grace. She performs miracles to show God that she cares for all of humankind. She is not the evil saint that those gangsters believe."

"Do you have a church, or somewhere where you all worship? A priest, perhaps?" Castle asked.

"The Catholic Church has always denied that Santa Muerte is a saint. Some call us heretics. But I am a good Catholic. I was married in the Church, my children were raised as Catholics, we all go to Mass every week. But I believe the Church is wrong about Santa Muerte. So our adoration of the White Lady is private, as you can see by my little shrine here in my home."

"Do you know anyone who might know anything about those who worship an evil saint?" Castle was unhappy with how this was going.

"Those that I know are my age or older. We do not associate with that kind." Robles said primly.

Beckett's phone rang. She excused herself and answered it. Espo was on the other end.

"We got something. Guerrero made one phone call from his room. It went through the switchboard. It was to a little store not far from here that carries food, drinks and other things from Mexico and Central America. We're headed over there now."

"Okay, I don't think we'll get anything here. See you at the precinct."

Esposito and Ryan stood in the background as Captain Dos Osos chatted with the store manager in Spanish. Since Ryan spoke no Spanish, Espo translated for him quietly. "He recognized Guerrero's photo and said he was here the day before he was killed. Bought a lot of Mexican stuff, candy, cigarettes, junk food and the like. Nothing that would help us. Most of the stuff we found in his hotel room anyway."

Espo admired the way Dos Osos and Cuchillo interrogated the manager. In spite of their size and strength, Dos Osos and Cuchillo somehow came across as a couple of friendly puppies. People seemed to take to them at once. Obviously, Bredi, standing stone-faced in the background didn't have the same gift of gab. On the other hand, maybe Bredi made people want to talk to Dos Osos and Cuchillo to avoid talking to Bredi.

"Wait a sec. The manager just said that after he left here Guerrero talked to some guy out front for a couple of minutes."

"Does the manager know the guy? Can he ID or describe him?" Ryan asked.

Espo smiled when Dos Osos asked the same question.

"No need to, bro. They have surveillance cameras. One shows the outside. We'll have a picture of the guy in no time."

Dos Osos asked if the manager had seen where Guerrero or the other guy had gone after the talk.

"Any idea at all?" Ryan asked. "Which direction did he go in?"

Guessing Ryan had no Spanish, the store manager switched to English. "Yes. Of course. The Mexican gentleman came back in here. He asked for directions to the Tighe Museum of Art."

Back at the station, Ryan went to run through the surveillance videos, while the others gathered around the desk that Jordan Shaw had taken over.

"It's a meet. It has to be." Kate said.

Shaw nodded. "Plenty of room to spot someone trying to eavesdrop and you can go stand next to as many people as you want to throw anyone tailing you off."

"And best of all for us," Castle added, "museums have world class surveillance systems. We'll know exactly who Guerrero met."

Ryan stuck his head out of the video room. "Agent Shaw? You'd better come and see this."

Everyone gathered around and looked at the freeze frame capture from the surveillance video.

"That son of a bitch!" Shaw swore. "Bring him in right now."

Everyone stood together looking into the interrogation room. As crowded as it was, Castle slid his arms around Kate's waist and inhaled the scent of her hair. She lightly placed her hands over his. They saw Agent Shaw walk briskly into the room, and put her laptop and a file down. Then she sat and stared at the suspect.

He spoke first. "Is that bitch watching me from behind the glass?"

"Sorenson, I'm sitting here trying to decide whether to charge you with obstruction of justice. If I ever hear you say one more word about Detective Beckett, it becomes a no brainer. You get charged." She opened her laptop and turned it toward Sorenson. "You met with our vic the day before he died and you somehow neglected to mention that. Care to tell me about it?"

"I'm a good agent. I deserve better than to sit in an office and shuffle papers. I got railroaded by politics, first from DC and then in New Mexico. I admit the thing in the UK was partly my…"

Shaw held up her hand. "Are you trying out your defense, or will you answer my question?"

Sorenson glared at her, but the glare soon died. "I knew Guerrero from New Mexico. I had interviewed him on a gun smuggling case, but he was too slick. We couldn't break his alibi. But he must have remembered me. He called me."

"He just called you. An agent he knew in New Mexico and he called you in New York. Really?"

"Really, Agent Shaw. We keep track of the bad guys, they keep track of us. At least they do if they have the money and resources Guerrero did. He called me and wanted a meet."

"What did he want to talk about?"

"He was scared. He said someone was after him."

"Who?"

"He wouldn't say. I just know he was really scared. He said he had someone else to talk to that might be able to help him out, but if that didn't work he wanted our help. He'd tell is everything he knew in exchange for immunity and a new life."

"He didn't say anything about who he was seeing first?"

Sorenson shook his head. "I've told you all I know."

"And you didn't tell us this before because…?"

"I don't want to sit in an office shuffling papers until I retire. I thought I might be able to work the angle myself, show people I'm not a failure."

"Okay, go home. Stay there. I'm putting you on admin leave until I decide what to do with you. Oh, I know, only your Special Agent in Charge can do that officially, but he'll listen to me. Now get out of here."

Shaw met the rest of the detectives in the hallway and watched Sorenson walk to the elevator.

"Jordan," Kate asked, "what will you do with him?"

Jordan shrugged. "That depends on the case. If we solve it and his obstruction causes us no problems, I won't charge him, probably. If our case collapses because of him, he's toast."

"I realize the seriousness of what he did, but he's a good agent and a good person, mostly." Kate said.

Jordan looked at her. "We'll see."

Rick put his hand on Kate's shoulder as Jordan walked away. "That was kind of you." 

Kate took his hand. "I never loved Sorenson. No more than I loved Demming or Josh. I love you."

"I know. And one of the reasons I love you is your compassion."

"Beckett! Castle!" Jordan called from across the bullpen. "Go check out the museum and see what you can find."

As Kate and Rick gathered their coats, Bear approached them. "Us Apaches could use a little New York culture. How about we tag along?"

Kate looked at the three. "Okay, assuming we can get everyone in my Crown Vic."

It proved to be a tight fit, but all three Apaches managed to fit in the back seat, although Kate had some trouble seeing anything but Apaches in the rear view mirror.

"Uh oh." Castle said as they pulled up to the front of the museum. He read the sign outside. "Under construction. Please use the south entrance."

Kate pulled her car into the south parking lot and everyone got out.

"I see brackets for security cameras on this side, but no cameras." Bear said.

"Nary a one." Cuchillo added. "There's one on the front that might cover part of the lot."

Bredi stopped and stared at the museum. "Parking lot." He said, pointing behind him.

Bear scratched his head. "Yup! Martin is right. You park at this end of the parking lot, and walk up this very sidewalk and no security camera would catch you." He smiled at Kate. "See, I told you old Martin was a real chatterbox."

"Two words?" Castle asked.

"A major oration." Cuchillo said.

They walked into the south entrance and were greeted by a security guard at a desk. Workmen, tools and scaffolding were everywhere. Kate identified herself and her team.

"I don't see any security cameras in this hallway."

"No, ma'am." The guard replied. "We're doing renovations including the electrical and security systems. There are no cameras until after you get past the main entrance lobby."

Kate sighed. "Okay, we need to talk to the head of your security."

The head of security was an ex-cop, James Waldron, who had known Kate briefly when she was a rookie. He confirmed that anyone could walk into the south entrance, walk all the way into the main lobby and never be caught by a security camera.

"We'd like all of your videos for that day just in case one of them screwed up, but I'm sure we won't find anything."

Feeling defeated, Kate dropped the three Apaches off at the precinct and headed home with Castle.

"How did it go today, kiddo?" Martha greeted Kate at the door with a glass of red wine.

Kate took it happily. "Lousy. We have absolutely no good leads. A big time gangster gets murdered in my precinct and we have no leads. None that lead anywhere anyway."

"How come she gets a glass of wine at the door and I don't?" Castle said with a pout.

"You can get your own. It's a sisterhood thing, Richard." Martha shot back.

Castle got his own wine while Kate sat on the couch and Martha headed for her room to change for a date. Rick pulled her feet gently into his lap, took off her shoes and began massaging her feet.

"You know, I'd marry you for your foot massages alone." She said happily.

"Lucky you. You get lots of extras in the marriage." He leered.

"I know. I know."

Rick and Kate arrived at the precinct prepared to build theory like mad, but were greeted by Esposito.

"We have something. We checked every plate we could get from the parking lot's security cameras, and got lucky. We found a car leaving registered to a Kyril Vatutin, Russian. Resident in the US. He's a driver for Alexander Lysenko."

"The name is vaguely familiar." Kate said. "Who is he?"

"Russian mobster. Does mostly gambling and prostitution, but dabbles in other things. He occasionally sells guns to people, just a sideline for friends, apparently. But he knows a lot of the people in the big league illegal arms business. He owns the St. Petersburg, New York's best Russian restaurant, over in Little Odessa. It's his pride and joy and a first class operation. No drugs, no hookers, no gambling, but nothing but the best Russian food and drink available. All the local Russian mobsters go there, along with visiting oligarchs from home, Russian diplomats and the occasional honest Russian. He's gotta be who Guerrero met at the museum."

"Yeah." Castle said glumly." But how do we get some Russian mobster to talk to us?"

Kate smiled. "I think I know a way."


	4. Chapter 4

4IllMan

Disclaimer: See all previous disclaimers. I don't own this stuff, really. Rating: T Time: Season Seven?

Rick stood in his living room and watched the beautiful woman walk towards him. She wore more make up that Kate ever did and her hair was artfully disarranged, unlike Kate's usually perfect coiffure. Her dress was short and tight, nothing like Kate's sensible slacks and it showed lots of cleavage, exposing her red lace bra. She smiled seductively at him, a smile that promised unbelievably erotic sex.

"You're gorgeous, I'd love to take you to bed right now."

She slapped him lightly on the cheek. "Work first." She said in a thick Russian accent.

"Sorry, Kate."

She slapped him lightly again. "Who? Who is this Kate?" she snarled.

"Sorry. You're gorgeous, Tatiana. I can't wait to take you to bed tonight."

"Better. And you are?"

"Mickey Brennan."

"What do you do, Meekee?" She said seductively.

Rick smiled at her pronunciation of his cover name. "I'm a contractor. I do a lot of building work for the state and I have some friends in Albany, so I'll be getting a lot more."

"You are rich?" She said with a predatory gleam in her eyes.

"I do all right." He said airily.

"What do you like to do?" She ran her hands through his hair.

"I come to the city about two or three times a month to play poker. We usually play at a friend's apartment or in the back of another guy's office. Usually we have the same players, more or less. Occasionally we get a new guy, but usually it's just friends. Not really high stakes. Nobody usually wins or loses more than about $10,000 in a night."

"And something happen?"

"Yeah!" Castle said bitterly. "Some jerk named Jerry Manley, a Jamaican, talked his way into the game. I think he was brought along by a friend who realized that Manley is the worst poker player on the planet. The guy drinks too much, has absolutely no poker face ever, he bluffs way too much, he makes too many high risk bets and…Hell, in short if you put together a list of everything you shouldn't do in a poker game, this jerk does it. Repeatedly."

"So?"

"That night he lost big. I got about $40,000 from him. I was the big winner and he was the big loser. He was drunk and he accused me of cheating. He said he was going to kill me. I didn't worry about it, though. I've dealt with sore losers before. Usually they're all mouth and no action."

"But this time was different?" She leaned close and spoke softly into his ear.

Rick nodded. "Manley is friends with the King Street Boys. They're a Jamaican gang that opened a branch in New York a couple of years ago around Brooklyn, because of its immigrant population. The Boys started off by extorting money from illegals, then moved into protection, drugs, prostitution, gambling, the usual, you know. And as more gang members come to New York, they've expanded."

She nodded. "So he's gangster?"

Rick laughed. "He's a punk. The King Street Boys let him hang around as kind of a joke. They do use him occasionally for small errands, and he spends money on them. He's a gangster wannabe."

"So?"

Rick frowned. "His gangster friends started teasing him about how he'd threatened to kill me and I was still above ground. They gave him a piece and he's been making threats. I think eventually he'll work up the nerve to try something."

"And you want to do something first?"

"Sure. I want to get that moron off my case.

"What you do?"

"I have a friend, Johnny O'Hara. We went to high school together back in the day. Now he's with the Westies, the Irish gang in Hell's Kitchen. Look, I didn't want a hit on Manley, just have Johnny and a couple of his pals lean on Manley a little bit. Maybe let the King Street Boys know I have friends. Have them cool this clown down."

"Should work." She said. "You know gangsters? My kind of man." She ran her hand down his chest and stopped at his waist. "So?"

"Finn Rourke, the head of the Westies said no to the idea. He was working out an agreement with the King Street Boys. You know, who's territory is where, who does what to who. And he didn't want something private screwing up the deal."

"You rich man? Hire bodyguards. Simple."

"I have friends in Albany, remember? If I start going around trailed by a couple of leg breakers with bulges under their armpits, what will my politician friends think?"

"Problem." She furrowed her lovely brow in thought. "What to do?"

Rick smiled. "Luckily, I have this gorgeous Russian girlfriend."

"Tatiana?" She said with a smile that set Rick's heart racing.

"Yes, Tatiana." She leaned up and kissed him and dropped her hand below the belt. He cupped her perfect ass.

"Slap ass, Meekee." She whispered.

He slapped it lightly.

"Harder." She told him.

He slapped her a little harder.

"Much harder, Meekee."

He finally put some muscle into his slap.

"Much better." She moaned. "I like. You strong man."

"And my gorgeous girlfriend knows about this guy, Alexander Lysenko, who occasionally can get guns for people. Unregistered, absolutely cold guns. If I do have to shoot this clown, I don't want any way for the gun to be traced back to me."

"How you get in touch with this Russian man? Lysenko gangster. He don't trust any people."

"I had Johnny call the guy and tell him I was a stand-up guy. I can be trusted. He set the whole thing up."

"And now?"

"I'm going to take my beautiful, sexy Russian girlfriend to the St. Petersburg. We'll buy some illegal guns, and then maybe we'll have the best dinner in the place and then come home and make love all night."

"My man is so good to me." She whispered. Her hand slid under his waistband and grasped his erection. His moan was stifled by her kiss. She took his hand and slid it under her bra. He found her already stiff nipple and slowly rolled it between his thumb and forefinger.

Kate broke the kiss and smiled at her husband. "All right. Tatiana should look like she's been used a little, but not that much." She had dropped her Russian accent.

Rick grinned at her. "I was really beginning to like Tatiana, too."

Kate smiled wickedly at Rick, and resumed her accent. "Tatiana love her man, but Reek only like Tatiana? Tatiana so sad."

"Tatiana and Reek will be a lot sadder if this doesn't work out."

Kate smiled. "Johnny O'Hara is looking at twenty years Federal time. One good phone call from him and he gets a very much reduced sentence. This'll work. Once we buy illegal guns from Lysenko, we go outside, call in the boys and ESU and arrest him. We'll have him on a relatively minor charge, but it'll be enough to threaten to get his liquor license pulled. A restaurant full of Russians with no booze? Never happen. The St. Petersburg is his pride and joy and all he has to do is talk about a dead guy. He'll talk."

"I know." He pulled Kate close. "But I worry about you. I love you, if you remember."

"I know you do. But one thing. You have to treat Tatiana rougher. Russian gangsters think of their women as property. Something to be used, abused and thrown away. Slap my butt, pinch it hard, grab my boobs, you can even slap me. You have to make these Russians think that you're a tough guy like they see themselves. Otherwise they won't respect you and they won't deal with you."

"I hate hurting women. And you're right at the top of the list of women I hate to hurt. I know how much pain you've had in your life."

Kate rested her head on his chest. "I know. But think of how much I'll be hurt if things go wrong."

"I hate to think about that."

Kate kissed him. She resumed her Russian accent. "You be good tonight and Tatiana be very good to you when we get home. Tatiana will fuck her man's brains out. Okay?"

"Okay. Let's go to dinner."

"One last thing, Castle. The secret to a successful undercover identity is that you _become_ that person. You aren't Rick Castle pretending to be Mickey Brennan. You _are_ Mickey Brennan. You were a tough Irish kid who was born poor and got rich by being smarter and tougher that anyone else. And I am not your wife Kate pretending to be Tatiana Ilyinichna Rostenko. I _am_ Tatiana Ilyinichna Rostenko. I too was born poor, but in Russia, and I used my looks and my brains to get to America and become the lover of a rich and wonderful man. Got that?"

"Got it."

In Castle's garage, they met Ryan and Esposito who would follow them to the St. Petersburg. They made every effort to keep their eyes off of Kate who was in full Tatiana mode, touching Castle all over.

"This sucks." Espo said to Castle. "You're going in unarmed, and not wearing a wire. What happens if something goes wrong?"

"You two will notice something and come to our rescue in exactly the nick of time, just like you always do." Castle smirked, covering his own anxiety.

Ryan shook his head. "We're on record as hating this idea. But we'll follow you and get as close as possible to the St. Petersburg. ESU is already set up nearby, ready to charge in. I hope it's enough."

"Let's go." Kate said quietly with her Russian accent. "I appreciate concern, but we have to do this." None of the three agreed with her, but no one said anything.


	5. Chapter 5

5IllMan

Disclaimer: How often do I have to say, I don't own Castle? Rating: M Time: Season 7

Castle pulled up to the St. Petersburg in his new BMW. He hopped out of the car and tossed the keys to the attendant. He helped Tatiana out of the car, noticing that she showed a lot of leg and just a flash of her red panties.

"Take care of the car." He said to the smiling attendant. "I'll take care of her."

Inside Tatiana spoke to the hostess in Russian. Castle caught the name Brennan. All of the personnel at the St. Petersburg were Russians and were mostly fluent in that language alone. The hostess smiled at Castle and said, "Welcome, Mister Brennan. Table ready soon. You sit?" She motioned to a comfortable looking couch.

They sat and Tatiana again showed a great deal of her legs. Castle took the time to look over the customers in the dining room. They were very much alike. Men in their forties and up, with expensive clothes, expensive haircuts, expensive watches and expensive phones, eating and drinking expensively. The difference was the women with them. Half seemed to be in their early twenties and were dressed much as Tatiana was. The other half of the women were obviously wives and were as expensively turned out as their husbands. A few were with their children who were, yes, obviously expensive.

The St. Petersburg was expensive as well. Marble floors were covered with expensive Oriental rugs, well-polished wooden wainscoting, snowy tablecloths covered the tables, but the chairs were expensive looking hardwoods. Lighting was subdued and a string trio played in the background. The waitstaff was courteous and prompt.

The hostess approached them and spoke to Tatiana who turned to Rick. "Come, Meekee. Table ready."

The hostess led them through the dining room and into a hallway. At the end of hallway stood two heavily built men. Bodyguards, no doubt. When they reached the bodyguards, one frisked Castle while the other frisked Tatiana. He noticed that the other bodyguard spent a great deal of time with his hands under her dress and around her breasts. As Castle was frisked, he looked to the side. Four more goons were sitting around a table with some women, ignoring the two visitors. One tall, well-built blonde in a dress shorter than Tatiana's stood against the wall and watched the two closely, though. Castle wondered if she was some kind of a bodyguard as well.

The two guards nodded to one another and gestured to the door at the end of the hallway and said something in Russian. Tatiana replied. As she walked to the door, Rick slapped her ass, hard.

She squealed and jumped. "What that for?"

"You enjoyed the frisking too much." Behind him he could hear the goons laugh.

Once inside, Castle got a look at Lysenko. He was no tatted up Russian mobster such as the ones Kate had rescued him from in the poker game so long ago. He was large and powerfully built, with a broad Slavic face and a head of thick, white hair. His suits were from Saville Row and his smile was dazzling. He reminded Rick of former Russian President Boris Yeltsin.

"Please, come in and sit down." He gestured to two comfortable chairs in front of his desk. Oddly his accent held just a trace of Russian and sounded more like Home Counties English with a slight American accent. He gestured to bottle of wine and three glasses that sat on his desk and a serving tray. "Please, have some Crimean champagne and caviar. They are excellent, I assure you." He smiled and poured champagne for each of them. Rick and Tatiana sipped appreciatively. He smiled deprecatingly. "Although I'm advised that it is improper to call anything champagne that is not from the Champagne region of France."

Both Rick and Tatiana smiled at his little joke.

"Now, what may I do for you, Mr. Castle and Detective Beckett?"

Rick almost choked on his drink. "I'm afraid you've made a mistake."

Lysenko reached under his desk. Rick was afraid he was going for a gun and almost jumped him. Just in time he saw Lysenko pull out his latest book and show Rick his photograph on the dust cover.

"Is this our last meal?" Rick gestured to his wine.

Lysenko looked shocked. "Please, Mr. Castle. I wouldn't dream of hurting my favorite author and his muse. Of course the lovely Detective Beckett is now Mrs. Castle. No, I only want you to autograph your books, as I have them all, and for Mrs. Castle to autograph the Nikki Heat books. I would be so appreciative. Then I will provide you with the weapons you sought and talk about the late Mr. Guerrero."

"Anything for my fans." Rick said, pulling out a pen.

"What gave us away?" Kate asked, dropping the Tatiana persona.

"When I found out that Mr. Guerrero had been murdered I wondered if the police would be coming to talk to me. With so much in the way of security cameras, electronic surveillance, and such, I felt that it was most likely that our little meeting would become known to you. So I considered the possibilities. Would the police come here and arrest me? No. You had no probable cause for an arrest warrant. Would you politely invite me to come down and talk to you? No. I would arrive with my full legal staff, which is quite imposing, and you would learn nothing from such a public discussion. What would you do then? Of course, I said to myself. Some police would come here undercover to talk to me. So, I checked each reservation for my restaurant for people unknown to me who might be police. Then, an Irish gentleman that I knew slightly wanted me to procure weapons for his friend and his lovely Russian girlfriend. Could these be the undercover police I was expecting? So I prepared myself. And when I looked at my security camera feed this evening, who to my surprise had arrived? My favorite author and his lovely wife, but under entirely different names. Of course! They are well known to work from the famous 12th precinct. As a fan, I, of course, knew that the 12th has jurisdiction over Mr. Guerrero's murder. "

"And you intend to talk to us about Guerrero?" Kate asked skeptically.

"Of course. But first I will give you the weapons you asked for." He reached into his desk and brought out a package. "No one here but myself, and two trusted aides know I am talking to the police, so Mr. Brennan and Ms. Rostenko must be seen by all to leave with the weapons they requested." He handed a pistol to Rick. "For you, a Beretta Model 92FS, a nice substantial weapon to show to your friends to show you mean business. Also for you, a Beretta 9000, a compact 9mm weapon suitable for concealment." He turned to Kate. "And for the lovely Tatiana, a Beretta 3032 in .32 caliber. More suited for a lady, but how you will conceal it in that outfit, I cannot imagine. Please note that all three weapons are loaded as are the spare magazines."

Both Rick and Kate checked their weapons. They were loaded, but no round was in the chamber. Rick dropped both of his weapons in his pockets. Kate jacked a round into the chamber and held her's in her hand.

"And please note that these were legally purchased and registered. I give them to you as gifts."

"Thank you." Castle said.

Kate nodded. "I can use this as a backup pistol, perhaps. Thank you."

"So why talk to us?" Castle asked.

"Mr. Guerrero sold… machinery." Lysenko said with a smile.

"He sold guns." Kate corrected him.

Lysenko continue to smile. "As I said, he sold machinery. As it happens, I know some people who also sell machinery. They were quite upset at what Mr. Guerrero had to say to me. Since his death, they have checked around and there is some evidence to support Mr. Guerrero's story. Enough to seriously upset my friends."

"Can we cut to the chase?"

"As you wish, Detective Beckett. Mr. Guerrero said he had been approached by a man who wished to take over his operation. A man who said he _would_ take over his company. He told Mr. Guerrero that his options were to either sell out at a very advantageous price, or be killed."

"What's the man's name?"

"Alas, Mr. Guerrero only referred to him as "Blondie."

"Probably not Mrs. Bumstead or Clint Eastwood's character in the Good, the Bad and the Ugly." Castle said. That got a look from Kate.

"What I did get from Mr. Guerrero was that the person was wealthy and powerful and had even more wealthy and powerful backers. He is an American and has experience in Africa in selling machinery and, shall we say, complimentary services?"

"So why are your friends so worried about some guy taking over the Mexican market?" Kate asked, a bit puzzled.

"Mr. Guerrero said he had far greater ambitions. He wished to become the greatest private arms merchant in the world. So big, so rich and so powerful that he could deal with any government as an equal."

"Like Sir Basil Zarahoff?" Castle asked.

"Or Viktor Bout." Lysenko added.

"I vaguely remember the name Bout, "Kate said, "but who is this Sir Basil?"

"Late nineteenth and early twentieth century arms merchant. Sold to both sides in wars, even was said to have started wars. They say the term, "merchant of death" was coined to describe him." Rick explained. "He died rich and honored in the nineteen thirties."

Lysenko continued. "Viktor Bout was a Russian arms dealer. In addition to providing arms, he owned several airlines so he could ship his arms around the world. There is hardly an area of the world he wasn't involved in: Africa, South America, Europe, Asia, the Middle East."

"Any African warlord, South American revolutionary or radical Islamist worth his salt had Bout on speed dial." Castle finished.

"He's in prison in the US. That's where I heard the name."

Castle nodded to his wife. "That's my girl. Never forgets a public enemy."

"What else can you tell us about this Blondie?" Kate asked.

Lysenko shrugged. "That is all that Mr. Guerrero told me about him. However, he was very frightened of the man. He said he felt he could no longer trust his associates, or his bodyguards. Mr. Guerrero was not a man to frighten easily as you should know. In addition, my friends in the machinery business have made inquiries. In the past several months there have been several mid-level machinery dealers who have left the trade. One way or another. Those who are still alive have been singularly unwilling to talk about why they retired. However, my friends can be very persuasive and have confirmed the basic outline of Mr. Guerrero's story. This frightened them sufficiently to agree that cooperation with the police would be advisable. Hence our meeting tonight."

"This is a lot bigger than we thought." Kate said quietly.

"I should like you to take my business card, Mr. Castle. I can be reached at any time of the night or day. If I or my friends can be of assistance, please call. May I have your card as well?"

Rick accepted the card and took out his wallet. "I don't put my personal cell number on my business cards, so I'll write it on the back. You should be able to contact me at any time if you have anything for us. Do you need Kate's card as well?"

Lysenko shook his head. "As I said. Only the top people in the various organizations know of my meeting and our cooperation with you. It would be inadvisable for news of this to become known. As a fan of Richard Castle I can explain having his card on me. I could not explain having Detective Beckett's card."

Lysenko stood and smiled. "As much as I would love to talk about Derrick Storm and the lovely Nikki Heat with you, my official business with Mr. Brennan and Ms. Rostenko would be brief. You should go now. Thank you so much for coming." He held out his hand and both Rick and Kate shook it.

As they walked out of Lysenko's office, Tatiana stopped and put her arms around Rick. Her new gun was in one hand. "Meekee! Where can I put this? There's no place."

Rick squeezed her breast. "I'll show you a number of places where we can put it when we get home."

Again the goons laughed. The tall blonde that Rick had noticed earlier stared at them as they left.

Retrieving their car, they drove across the street and parked. Kate opened the window and called to a patch of shadow. "Espo, are you sure you were a Special Forces sniper? I can see you."

"And the goons across the street are in the light and have no night vision. How'd it go?"

"Good, but stay around. We may have company." She rolled the window back up.

"The blonde with the big…hair?" Rick asked.

"You can say boobs, Rick. She had big boobs. I don't mind if you look."

"Given my life long reputation as a playboy, I don't want other people to see me looking. Actually, I don't like for you to see me looking. So I try not to."

"Look! There's the blonde coming out of the St. Petersburg."

"She's heading away from us."

"Just wait, Rick."

A few minutes later the blonde opened the back door and got in. "So, Mr. Policeman, get rid of this Russian whore and we can talk."


	6. Chapter 6

6IllMan

Disclaimer: Still not mine. Rating: T Time: Season 7

"I'm not whore, like you." Tatiana spat at the blonde.

Rick decided that since Kate had slipped back into her Tatiana persona, he should be the cop for the time being. "Who says I'm a cop?"

The blonde laughed. "Men are so stupid. Russian men most of all. They think women have no brain. Can talk on phone and stupid woman will not understand. I listen, hear things. Find out what's going on. But, if you are not cop, I go." She reached for the door handle.

"Okay, you win. I'm a cop. What do you want?"

"First I want Russian whore out. Gone. Then I talk to you. I talk to police, not whores."

Rick shook his head. "No way. Tatiana is a friend of mine, plus we've worked together before when I need a little Russian local color. Anything you tell me, she's going to hear anyway. So who are you?"

"Who are you, policeman?"

"Detective Rick Castle, homicide, 12th Precinct, NYPD. You?"

She looked at Rick as if trying to decide what to tell him. Then she shrugged. "Olga. Olga Ivanichna Petroff."

"So, Olga, why do you want to talk to a cop?"

"First drive away. I don't want to be seen."

Rick started the car and drove away. He saw Ryan and Esposito follow in their car.

"Where to?"

"Three blocks down there is parking garage. This time of night, no one park there. We go on top floor, can see anyone coming. Go there."

Rick pulled into the parking garage, drove to the top and parked. "Okay, Olga. We're here. Talk."

"I have boyfriend. Pytor Konev." She stopped and stared at Tatiana.

"You mean you have pimp." Tatiana said.

"Whore, do not tempt me. I will…"

"You'll tell me why you wanted to talk to me. If all you want to do is talk about your love life, you can go. Now talk." Castle snapped.

"Pytor come to this country as baby. He is more like American than Russian. He is good to Olga. Pytor doesn't beat Olga like Russians beat their women. He treats me like an American would."

Tatiana laughed.

"I know. American men can beat women. I am not stupid. But many American men treat women nicely. I see this. I have American friends. Women."

"Does this have any point?" Rick asked, trying to put just the right amount of boredom in his voice.

"I tell you my story from beginning. Makes sense then."

"Okay, okay." Rick grumped.

"Pytor gets teased by his Russian friends. They say he's soft like Americans, not tough like Russians."

"You might ask Osama bin Laden about those soft Americans." Rick commented.

Olga laughed. "Pytor gets mad. He drinks. He comes home. He tells me that I am his woman. He is boss, I am nothing. Then he hits me in stomach, tosses me on bed and tears my clothes off. Before he fuck me, he does this." She pulled her top all the way down to her waist. She had bruises all over her breasts and stomach. "He beats me. I hate him. Want to leave, but can't. He has everything I own locked in storage room."

"And?" Rick actually was getting bored.

"Pytor works for Lysenko. When Mexican man comes to see Lysenko, he sends Pytor to follow him. Pytor follows him all day and night. Sees Mexican go into alley. See's man follow him."

"He witnessed the murder?"

Olga shook her head. "No. did not see. But Pytor is more like Americans than most Russians. He has camera. He take picture of killer and everything he see while following. Pytor put picture on…" She searched for a word. "Small thing go in computer…"

"Thumb drive?" Rick said.

Olga nodded. "You take me to our place. Open storage room, let me get everything and take me to bus station. I give you thumb drive. Olga leaves. Never see Pytor again. Find nice American man." She smiled at Rick.

"Rick mine." Tatiana said.

"For now." Olga said, smiling at Rick.

"Tatiana is mine and I'm hers, okay. Besides, you'll want to get out of town. Way out of town"

"Why Pytor not give thumb drive to Lysenko?" Tatiana asked suddenly.

Olga shrugged. "Pytor is like American. He wants to be his own boss. He keeps information. Maybe worth something to someone."

"So Pytor is in it for himself. So why can't we just buy it from him?"

Olga laughed again. "How much money police have? Pytor will sell to highest bidder. Not be cops, I think. Better you deal with Olga." She looked daggers at Tatiana. "Do we really have to keep Russian whore with us, Detective?"

"She's not a whore, she's my girlfriend and she stays."

"She is your girlfriend?" Olga stared at Rick. "You liar. You lie to someone. Maybe you lie to Olga."

"What do you mean? When did I lie?"

"Your finger tells lie. You have mark on finger from wedding ring. Like many men, you take ring off when you go out. So you lie to someone. Maybe you lie to wife about Russian whore. Maybe you lie to me. Maybe I go."

Tatiana laughed. "She good. Sees things. We should tell her." Tatiana nodded to Rick.

He had no idea what he was supposed to tell Olga. He nodded to Tatiana. "You go ahead."

"He is husband. I am his wife." She said simply.

"He marries Russian whore? Never."

Tatiana slapped Olga hard across the face. "I am not whore. I come to this country on student visa. Study at university. When visa expire, I think, go back to Russia? Be with men like Lysenko? Or your Pytor? I stay. Get jobs. Work hard. Not as whore. Then I get job in nice bar. Wealthy men come there. All nice to Tatiana. Then one day immigration arrests me. They know my visa expired. I am frightened. But they say, we get you green card if you help. How can poor Tatiana help? Man who comes to bar is banker. He launders money for criminals. He always nice to Tatiana, but he has girlfriend, American, younger and with bigger boobs than Tatiana. They say just watch him, tell us who he talks to, when he is on phone, easy things. I say I do. But I think, work against gangsters? Tatiana could get killed. I will run away as soon as I can. But Rick say that it too dangerous for me to be alone. So he will become Tatiana's boyfriend. I am very mad at Rick. He keeps very close watch on me. I cannot run. But banker is arrested, his gangster friends, too. Tatiana is happy. Police get me green card. Then Rick asks me for date. I know police. Police same everywhere. He will beat me, fuck me, take his pleasure, leave me unsatisfied, but he is police, so I say yes. But, Rick takes me to nice restaurant, then to movie. Takes me home and kisses me. Once. Then ask me out again. I am very surprised." Tatiana laughed. "I make Rick wait for six weeks before I sleep with him. We date. He ask me to marry him. I say yes. Now we here."

Olga looked back and forth between Rick and Tatiana. "True? She is you wife?"

"Absolutely." Rick said honestly. She was his wife. It was he rest that wasn't true.

"We go to Pytor's." Olga said determinedly.

Pytor lived close by. As Rick parked, he saw Ryan and Esposito pull up several car lengths back.

When they got out of the car, Tatiana gestured to the other unmarked car. "Rick's backup. I tell them to come too." She headed for the car. Castle admired the way she moved.

"We're going upstairs with you, Detective Castle?" Esposito said straight-faced.

"Yeah. I couldn't bring my shield on an undercover job, so I may need you."

"Do you need one of our backup guns, Detective Castle?" Ryan asked with just a hint of a smile.

Rick pulled his new Beretta 92 out of his pocket. "Nope, I'm strapped."

The entrance into the apartment was anti-climactic. Pytor wasn't at home. Castle opened the locked storage room with a lock pick, feeling that it was Olga's as much as Pytor's and that he broke no laws. Olga threw her clothing into a suitcase and a small bag, then went into the kitchen. She pulled out a drawer and pulled the taped thumb drive off the bottom. "Here." She handed the drive to Castle. He handed it to Kate. "Tatiana, you and Ryan put in the guy's laptop and see what we're getting. I don't want to do this for photos of Lysenko's birthday party."

"Do not worry, Detective. What I give you is what I say." Olga was trying to reach something on the top shelf of a kitchen cabinet.

"Espo, give her a hand." Castle ordered.

"Yes, sir." He smiled at Castle. "You're so decisive. You'll be our captain in no time, sir."

"Don't you forget it."

"Get small teapot way in back." Olga ordered

Espo pulled it down and Olga grabbed it. "Still there. My money. I save and hide from Pytor. Over four hundred dollars."

"Hey, Castle, look at this." Ryan called.

Castle looked over Ryan and Tatiana's shoulders. "Photos! There's Guerrero, I think. He's walking away from us, and damn, he turned into the alley before we could get his face."

"There other man." Tatiana said, pointing.

"Oh, a close up. A nice close up. If he's in the system, we can get a facial recognition match off of this."

"Look! Last photo." Tatiana said. "Killer is talking on phone."

"We have an exact time on the photo and the location. Maybe we can ID the phone."

"I'm sure we can, Detective Castle." Ryan said.

"Anything else you need, Olga?" Castle asked.

"No. We leave."

Castle explained that they were going to help Olga get out of town. He sent Ryan and Esposito home. Tatiana gave a barely noticeable nod confirming that. When they had gone a few blocks, Castle pulled over.

"What?" Olga asked, suspiciously.

Castle pulled out his money clip. "Look, you aren't going to get very far on $400. I've got about $2500 here, plus I'll take you to the airport and buy you a ticket to LA."

Olga slid her hand under her dress and came up with a switchblade knife. In a second, it was at Castle's throat. "Who are you? No cop has that kind of money. No honest cop. And if you not honest cop, you not give money to Olga. Who are you? What do you want with Olga?"

Kate took her new pistol and placed it against Olga's temple. "Olga, I'm the cop here. Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD. That man is my husband, Richard Castle. He's a famous and very wealthy author. He just wants to help you out. He's one of Lysenko's favorite authors. Perhaps you've heard of him? Richard Castle? Now put the knife away."

Olga was scared. Both Rick and Kate could see that. She might do anything.

"Really. I'm rich. The money is nothing to me."

"Listen to my accent, Olga. Do I sound Russian to you now? Now you can take my husband's money and go to LA, or I can blow your brains out. And think of this: If we wanted to kill you, you'd be dead right now. Think."

Olga put the knife down. "Americans crazy. Cop is Russian whore. Cop is not cop, but rich man."

Castle laughed. "Yeah. And the Soviet Union had a going out of business sale twenty years ago and we're still here. That's us crazy Americans for you."

"Let's get her to the airport." Beckett said.

Rick drove to JFK and parked. The three walked into the terminal. Kate put her arm on Olga's, stopping her. "You'd better ditch your knife in the trash can over there. They won't let you on the plane with a knife." Olga nodded and threw the knife away.

Castle bought her a first class ticket to LA on the next flight out.

"First class?" Kate whispered.

"I always buy first class tickets. Force of habit." Castle suddenly saw something down the concourse. "Hey! Keep Olga here. I'll be right back."

He was back in five minutes with a book in his hand. "Olga, this is one of my books, Naked Heat. The detective in it is based on my wife. You'll like it. And it has my picture on the back. See, I really am a writer."

Olga compared the photo with Rick's face. "You are writer. And cop?"

"Sort of. It's a long story." Rick pulled out his phone. "And I had an idea while I was buying the book." He dialed a number. "Jerry! Rick Castle? How's LA?"

"You know I'd love it, but Paula and my lawyers have some serious problems. The last Nikki Heat movie went straight to DVD. Yeah, Black Pawn wasn't happy either. Look, all I do is write them. You guys make the deals, okay?"

"Yeah, we got your wedding gift. Sure, we've drunk about half of it."

"Look, I'm still working with the police here in New York. I have this young lady here. She has to get out of New York. Boyfriend problems. Could you get her a job? Secretary? Script girl?"

"Sure. Just a second. I'll send you a picture of her." He pointed the phone at Olga. "Smile, Olga." She did and Rick took her picture.

"You got that?"

"You will? Great."

"Hey, I will get out there again."

"Sure, with Kate."

"Yeah, she sure is. See you."

He hung up and turned to Olga. "Jerry King is a producer in LA. He'll have a car meet you in LA. He's a good guy. He'll take care of you. I'll write his phone number down just in case."

"You'd better start through security if you want to make your flight." Kate said.

Olga smiled at Rick, then threw her arms around him and mashed her mouth against his. "Thank you! Thank you. American men are good." She ran towards the security line.

As they walked back to the car, Kate said, "I told you that you could look. Not that you could kiss." Rick looked. Kate was smiling.

"She ambushed me. It was over before I could do anything."

"I've seen you in action. You can move pretty fast if you want to."

"She had the element of surprise. What did you want me to do?"

"You could have slapped her ass, hard."

"I could have, but it would have attracted attention."

"And the kiss didn't?"

"Next time I'm taking a Russian woman to the airport for a flight to LA, I'll slap her ass hard, twice, to make up for this time."

"Okay, as long as you remember to do that."

"I will." Rick slapped her ass lightly.

She goosed him. "Hey!"

Back at the precinct, they found Jordan Shaw still there. They briefed her on the evening's activities.

"So we're in bed with the Russian mob over this?" Jordan shook her head. "Okay, just be careful what you tell this Lysenko. He makes an effort to come off as an English gentleman, but he's a Russian thug. Remember that at all times."

She looked at the thumb drive they had gotten. "I'll have Hayes take this and download everything on it and see what she can see. I'll also need those guns you got."

"I have to surrender my weapons?" Castle grumped.

Shaw nodded. "Just in case Lysenko gave you some guns that have been used in any unsolved murders. Unless you'd like to be considered as a murder suspect?"

Castle handed over his two weapons and Kate handed over hers.

"Don't worry, Rick. I still love you, even if you are unarmed." Kate kissed him softly.

"We'll have to call in the intelligence community on this. I hate to do that." Shaw said quietly.

"Why?" Rick asked.

"They always want us to give them all of our information, but they hate to give us anything. And, more than a few times we've had a suspect all ready to be charged and they show up and whisk him away. I always suspect some sort of a deal has been made."

"I have a friend in the CIA." Castle said helpfully.

"So do I. Several." Jordan replied.

"Oh."

"Okay, Castle, it was nice of you to send Olga off. I just hope we don't need her for anything. You two go home and get some sleep. I'm headed for my hotel myself. Power naps on that torture rack in your break room aren't doing it for me."


	7. Chapter 7

7IllMan

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: Who owns Castle, you ask? Not I. Rating M Time: Season 7

Rick and Kate got back to the loft and were pleased to find they were alone. Alexis was at her dorm and Martha was visiting friends.

"A glass of wine?" Rick asked.

"Are you trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me?"

"Yes."

"A large glass then."

Rick and Kate sat on the couch, cuddling and drinking their wine. "Honey, how'd you think up Tatiana's story with me so fast?"

"What did I tell you about assuming an undercover persona?"

"You become the person?" Castle said.

"Right. So I made up Tatiana's backstory a while ago." Kate dropped back into Tatiana's Russian accent. "Is very sad."

"Tell me all about Tatiana's sad story. Maybe I can comfort her."

Tatiana snuggled closer. "Tatiana's parent were poets, very respectable in old USSR. But her father wrote satirical poems about the Party. Got in trouble. Both him and Tatiana's mother kicked out of Poet's Union. No work for them but low paid work. When Tatiana born, family very poor. She grew up poor, but she was smart. Then when she was fourteen, she was seduced by older boy. Boy told everyone. Everyone call Tatiana a slut. Tatiana very unhappy, but she learns that she can use her looks and her body to get what she wants. But she is not whore. She goes to technical institute in St. Petersburg. Then her dreams come true. She gets visa to study in America. Tatiana leaves Russia and will never go back. She does get work in nice bar and meets Meekee Brennan."

"So she's happy now, right?"

Tatiana shook her head. "No. Tatiana loves Meekee, but Meekee does not love Tatiana. So sad."

Rick looked at Tatiana. "Are you calling Mickey Brennan a dope, doll?" He snarled.

"No, Meekee! Never!"

Rick kissed her hard. "Then don't tell me I don't love you, baby. I love you Tatiana and I want you for my wife."

"Oh! Meekee! Tatiana love you so much." She kissed him passionately. She broke the kiss and whispered in his ear. "Make love to me Meekee. I show you how much I love you."

He picked Tatania up and carried her to the bedroom. He put her down and undid the zipper on her dress and pulled it down. It fell away from her, leaving her with just her red bra and panties and her heels. He reached around her and undid he clasps of her bra. It fell away. "You're perfect, Tatiana." He breathed. He pushed his thumbs under the top of her panties and pushed them down. She wiggled so they fell at her feet. Then she stepped out of her heels.

"You like, Meekee?"

"I love."

He picked her up and put her down gently on the bed. She smiled up at him. "I help you undress?"

He shook his head. "No. I just want to look at you and know how beautiful you are." He quickly stripped and lay down beside her. He stroked her hair and her cheek and looked into her eyes. "I love you so much. I need you so much."

"Show me, Meekee." She breathed into his ear.

He kissed her softly, then with greater passion. He moved from her lips to her long, graceful neck, scattering kisses downward. Then he reached her boob. Softly, he licked all around her left nipple which was already fully engorged. He reached over and stroked her other boob, being very gentle. Then he sucked as much of her boob into his mouth as would fit and sucked hard. He squeezed the other with his hand, hard, but not hard enough to hurt, but enough to excite her.

"More." She begged.

"You want more?" He teased.

"Always."

"Then you shall have more. All that I have. Always."

He kissed his way down her stomach, pausing to run his tongue around her belly button.

"Lower." She said.

"Your feet?" He teased.

She pushed his head downward. "If you want, Meekee. Anything you want."

"Not your feet, I think."

She spread her legs further to welcome his tongue inside her. He placed his hands on her hips, then moved them to her perfect ass. He squeezed the globes lightly. "Like that?"

"Love that." She moaned.

He licked up and down her wet slit, then moved to her clit. He took it into his mouth and bit very gently, getting a long moan from her in reply. She pushed his head down harder with her hands. He pushed his head up, grinning at her.

"No." She breathed. "Don't stop."

He slid his finger inside her. "You're wet. Very, very wet, honey. Are you hot?"

She nodded. "Please Meekee. Don't make me wait."

He put a second finger inside her and began moving them around in a circle. He gave the remaining cheek of her ass a squeeze and moved his hand to the bottom of her stomach. Then he used his thumb to stroke her aroused clit. Back and forth went his thumb. Her head whipped hack in forth in harmony. She writhed on the bed and thrust her hips upward. She lifted her head and looked into his blue eyes. "Please. Please."

He crawled up so his face was right over hers. "You want?"

"More than anything."

He slid inside her, going all the way in with one thrust, then drew himself slowly out of her.

"Inside me, please. Please Meekee."

She threw her arms around his shoulder and mashed her lips against his. Her tongue shot into his mouth and desperately explored his mouth. Her legs locked around his hips and she tried to force him inside of her further. He obliged her by entering her all the way again. He mashed his pubic bone against her clit and moved in and out of her, faster and faster.

She had been aroused by his oral lovemaking and was almost there as soon as he entered her.

"I'm almost there! I'm going to come. Oh, Meekee! It's so fucking good. I love you so much." She relaxed a bit, then noticed he hadn't climaxed. "Don't worry. I'll stay with you. I'm not stopping now. I'll make you come and I'll come again."

"Hang on Tatiana. I'm putting it in overdrive." He slammed into and out of her with increasing force. Finally, as she climaxed again, she felt him spurt inside of her. She grabbed his head and dug her fingers into his hair, kissing him madly. "That was best. The best."

Rick relaxed. "Damn. It was, wasn't it?"

"I make you happy, Meekee?"

"And you stayed in character as Tatiana the whole time, too." He marveled.

"I told you." She said in her natural voice. "You have to be the person, all the time. Especially in bed."

"In bed? Did you ever…?" He decided he didn't want to know.

"Just once at Stanford. This guy I was dating was really into roleplaying."

Rick stroked her face lightly, then Kate rested her head on his chest. "We need to get some sleep, honey. We'll have to get an early start tomorrow."

She blew in his ear. "We could call in sick."

"With Jordan Shaw on the case? She'll have a doctor over here in no time."

"Feds are no fun at all." She murmured.

The phone rang early the next morning. Kate answered it. "Beckett." She listened and made a note on a notepad. She hung up and nudged Rick. "We have a body, probably connected to our case. We have to go. Come on, you make breakfast and I'll shower and get ready." She hopped out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

"I hate to see you go, but I love watching you go away." Castle called out to her. "Especially when you're not wearing anything." She stuck her tongue out at him, but smiled.

They pulled up to the crime scene, a parking garage. Shaw, Ryan and Esposito as well as Lanie and a host of uniforms were already there.

"Who's our vic?" Kate asked Esposito.

"Driver's license says he's Peter Konev. He works for your pal Lysenko."

"Damn!" Castle swore. "Do you think he found out our boy Peter was holding out on him and had Peter whacked?" Then he thought of something. "Maybe we should get ahold of Olga?"

"Didn't you do that last night?" Kate asked.

"Hey! That was so not my fault." 

"What wasn't Castle's fault?" Ryan asked.

"It seems Castle is hot for Russians." Kate said sadly.

"Just one Russian!" He insisted. "And she's not really…I mean she's like a Russian…Kate!"

She smiled at him. "You're okay, lover boy." She turned serious. "Let's find out a little more about what happened before we scare poor Olga." She walked towards Jordan Shaw who was talking to Esposito. Castle followed her quickly.

"What do we have?" She asked.

Esposito held up a clear evidence bag with a pistol in it. "This was found on the ground floor, in a can full of bleach. I'll have CSU look at it, but I'm betting we'll get nothing."

"What about the weapon itself."

"The serial number indicates it's new." Jordan replied. "So I called a Colt manager in Hartford and asked him to track it down. He said it was manufactured two months ago and was one of a shipment stolen in St. Louis on its way to a gun store in Arkansas."

"That says cold gun to me." Castle said.

"We checked the magazine. Two rounds fired and we recovered two spent shells. The shells remaining in the magazine have been hollowed out and filled with mercury, then closed up with a drop of solder. Just like Guerrero. Same shooter, I'll bet." Espo said.

"How was he found?" Kate asked.

Espo pointed to a civilian who was talking to Ryan. "George Reynolds. He's a building manager across the street. He parked here at about 6 PM. He said the the car next to him was a pick up owned by a guy who he knows who works in his building. When he came back around 3AM, Konev's car was parked next to him. He saw the shot out window, looked inside and lost his lunch. Or dinner."

"What about the guy who owns the pick up?" Castle asked.

"We identified him and got him on the phone. He said he left work at about 1:30 and got here maybe five minutes later. He didn't see anything."

"So Konev parked here and was shot sometime between 1:30 and 3. That gives us a good window for time of death." Castle said.

"It gives us more than that." Kate added with a smile. "We're pretty sure that the same person killed Guerrero and Konev. Konev was following the killer, so our killer had some sort of business around here." She turned to Espo, "Javi, have uniforms canvas the area with…"

"Pictures of our suspect and Konev? Already being done."

"One more thing." Kate added. "Konev had to go back to his apartment last night, otherwise we wouldn't have found the thumb drive there. That means he had some way of knowing where our killer would be. It can't be just dumb luck the killer ran across Konev."

"Did anyone find a camera?" Castle asked.

Espo and Jordan shook their heads.

"Okay, "Jordan said, "we've done all we can do here. We should head back to the precinct."

Once back at the precinct, Jordan called Kate and Rick into her office. "I need to bring you up to speed on what's happened. Sit."

They sat.

"We got a good photo of out presumed murderer off of Konev's thumb drive, but we came up empty in the DOJ database. We've asked Interpol and the CIA to check their databases, but we haven't heard back from them."

"As far as the rest of the shots on the memory stick, they're a problem."

"How?" Castle asked.

"Apparently Konev took most of the shots while he was following our perp. He was driving, navigating New York City traffic and shooting photos of the killer. We got some great shots of his nostrils, but a lot of the shots are out of focus or show only part of what he was trying to take a picture of. But, I have Hayes trying to clean them up and I have some of your beat cops looking at them to see if they can identify where they were taken. I'm hoping that Konev was smart enough to take pictures of the killer when he was going someplace and not just walking down the street." 

"Konev wasn't smart enough to avoid ending up with two bullets in him." Castle said.

"Perhaps we should hope for a smarter class of criminals, Mr. Castle?" Shaw said.

"Um, not what I meant, really."

"Good. Now I have a present for you, Castle."

"For me? It's not my birthday and Christmas has passed. What's the occasion?"

Shaw tossed a piece of paper onto her desk in front of Castle.

"What is it?" 

"A Federal concealed carry permit. I saw personally that you can handle a weapon, and you've been with the NYPD for years. And we're after some very dangerous people. You should be armed. There's a permit for your Beretta 92 and for the Beretta 9000." She took the two pistols out of her desk drawer and put them on the desk along with the spare magazines. "You might want to get a couple of holsters. Carry them in your coat pocket and everyone will know you're packing." Jordan looked over at Kate. "Do you have any problems with this?"

Kate shook her head slowly. "No. I don't like Rick being in a situation where he might need a gun, but if he needs one, I'd rather he had one."

"Do you want to keep the .32 that Lysenko gave you?"

Kate shook her head. "My two Glocks are fine."

"Okay, why don't you two…"Jordan was interrupted by Agent Hayes, who stood in the door, not saying anything. "Yes? Come in and sit down."

Hayes say down and stared at the floor. She mumbled something that neither Kate, Rick, nor Jordan caught.

"Speak up, please, Sandy. These are friends." Jordan said kindly.

"He was making a phone call. To and from a burner phone. Bought for cash. Phony IDs." Hayes said very quietly.

"We expected that Sandy. What else?"

"We know the exact time from the date/time stamp on the photo and the place. I'm trying to see if I can track the other phone by the cell towers it pinged off of."

"You can do that?" Castle asked.

"If we have to." Jordan turned back to Hayes. "But there's something else?"

"It's possible that we can remotely turn on the GPS function of the phones and locate them."

"Can you do that?" Jordan asked.

Hayes shook her head.

Jordan sighed. "But you know someone who can?"

Hayes nodded again.

"Jerry?"

Hayes nodded again. This time she almost looked like she was smiling.

"That may be difficult, Sandy."

Hayes nodded again, her eyes firmly looking at the floor.

"Why is it difficult?" Castle asked.

"Jerry is at Fort Dix, New Jersey." Jordan replied.

"So he's a soldier, can't we…?"

"He's at the Federal Correctional Institute at Fort Dix, Castle. He's a prisoner, not a soldier."

"He can do it." Hayes said softly.

"And you can't? You don't know anyone else who can?" Jordan asked.

Hayes nodded once again.

"Okay. I'll see what I can do. But I can't promise anything."

Hayes got up, said thanks and ran out of the room.

"Um, Hayes and this Jerry are…?"

"Sort of an item." Jordan finished for Castle. "He's a world class hacker. Nothing really malicious, and he didn't steal anything, but he hacked into the White House's website, several at the Pentagon and other military commands, the Treasury Department, State, Justice, the CIA, the FBI and others. He mostly left satirical and obscene limericks behind. He also boasted that he was too good to ever be caught."

"Who caught him?" Kate asked.

"Sandy Hayes. Jerry Wolcott was thrilled to meet a geek girl who was as good as he was. He said he hacked because he was lonely. Unfortunately he had seriously pissed off most of the government and is now in prison. They write back and forth, since he isn't allowed any kind of electronic equipment. She goes to see him when she can. He did help us on a case about six months ago. It looks good on his record, but I think he did it to impress Sandy."

"Men do that." Kate said, but smiled at Castle.

"So, I'll see about getting Jerry out for a while. Meantime, you can help the uniforms looking at Konev's photos."

As they walked out of Jordan's office, Kate grabbed Castle and pulled him into the break room and closed the door. "Just because you now have a weapon, this doesn't change anything. I'm the cop here. You stay behind me. You do what I say. You stay safe. Understand."

"Forget it."

"What?"

"You may be the cop here, but you're my wife. You're the reason I get up each morning. You are everything to me, Kate. I will not let you risk your life for me. We're partners now. In every way. If you take a risk, I take a risk."

"Castle! You listen to me…"

They were interrupted as Ryan came into the break room. "Hi. Aren't you supposed to be with Agent Hayes and the uniforms?" he asked.

"We'll talk about this later." Kate said, glaring at Castle.

"What? Ryan said. "Did I do something?"

Several hours later, Rick and Kate were called to Jordan's office. "This case is odd and getting odder. I just got a phone call. Care to guess who it was from?"

"A vampire CIA agent?" Castle asked brightly.

"Perhaps I should just tell you." Shaw said, shaking her head. "I got a call from the Rwandan Mission to the United nations here in New York. They would like Detective Beckett and Mr. Castle to come over and talk about the death of Mr. Guerrero. Do either of you have any idea what that would be about?"

**Author's note: I started referring to Kate as Tatiana when she used her Tatiana persona, because it was easier than writing "Kate, using a Russian accent, said…" rather than just saying, "Tatiana said…" Then I decided that it also showed that Kate had become Tatiana as she said she should when going undercover. Rick is always Rick because he hasn't quite gotten that far as an undercover wannabe cop. **


	8. Chapter 8

8IllMan

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: I don't own Castle, a castle, or cattle. Rating: K+ Time: Season 7

Kate immediately told Jordan Shaw that she had no idea why the Rwandan mission to the UN would want to talk to them. Castle, as he had every once in a while since Paris, wondered if his father was involved. He had no way to know. "Um, I've talked to hundreds of people over the years. I've either written books about Derrick Storm in just about every part of the world, or I've researched about sending him to someplace. I did some research on Antarctica once for a Derrick Storm, but I decided Antarctica is too boring. I never did that book."

Kate smiled. "What, an army of evil penguins bent on world domination didn't appeal to you?"

He smiled back. "Good idea. How would Nikki Heat look in a black and white bikini?"

"At the South Pole? You'd have to call it Frozen Solid Heat."

"Will you two comedians just get out of here? If you get anything hot, give me a call. Otherwise, come back here." Shaw waved them out of her office.

As usual, Kate drove. "I love you, Kate." Rick said quietly.

"I know." She said, wondering where this was going.

"I never felt like I feel for you before. Not with Kyra, not with Meredith and not with Gina. What I feel for Alexis and Mom are a lot like it, but it's not the same."

"It's called love, Rick." Kate gently teased.

"And that's why I can't let you risk your life for me. We are partners, Kate. One for all and all for one."

"Not one for two, and two for one?"

"That sounds too much like a sales promotion." He conceded.

Kate sighed. "Can we at least agree that since I'm the most experienced partner, I should be in charge?"

Castle thought about it. "Okay. Unless I think…"

"No." Kate said softly. "I'm in charge. I know what I'm doing, and I want to keep both of us alive for a very long time. Okay?"

"Okay."

Kate found a place to park by the UN buildings and they went inside. They were politely, but firmly, relieved of their weapons and an intern led them to the Rwandan Mission.

"Mr. Castle. Detective Beckett. Thank you for coming." They were greeted by a tall, slender African woman at the door. She wore a conservative suit and her hair was pulled tight in a bun. She looked too young to be in charge of anything important. "Mr. O'Donnell is waiting for you." She said in flawless Oxford English with a smile.

"Mr. O'Donnell?" Kate and Rick said together.

"Yes." Was her only response.

She led them down a hallway and past several cubicles to a door. She knocked and got a muffled response from inside. "You can go in now."

Kate and Rick walked into a small office. There was a window on one side, a large book case on the other side and directly in front of them was a gunmetal steel desk. Also on the far wall was a map of Central Africa, and beside that what Castle took to be the Rwandan flag.

O'Donnell was a Caucasian. He stood to shake hands with his two visitors. He was perhaps an inch shorter than Rick, but twenty or so pounds heavier, dressed in a rumpled grey suit. His face was weather beaten, with lines around his eyes, like a man who spent a lot of time looking at the horizon. He had salt and pepper hair, but a solidly black mustache. When he welcomed them, Rick couldn't identify his accent. Some sort of African-English accent he thought. Rick guessed his age at early fifties.

He bade them to sit and offered them coffee, which they accepted.

"You're a Rwandan, Mr. O'Donnell?" Kate asked.

He smiled. "There are black Americans, why not white Africans? In fact, I was born in Africa, as were my parents and grandparents but one. But, we're not here to talk about me, are we?"

"May I ask why the government of Rwanda is interested in murder in New York?" Kate asked directly.

"Perhaps I should begin at the beginning?"

Rick nodded. "Works for just about everyone. Except Quentin Tarentino, of course."

"Just so." O'Donnell replied. "However, African states buy a great deal of weaponry from the former Soviet Union. Their weapons are simple and easily mastered by less than sophisticated soldiers as are often found in Africa. And they are remarkably cheap."

"Built for peasant soldiers by peasants." Rick said.

"Quite. We have friends in Africa, you know. Burundi, Kenya, Uganda, Ethiopia, Djibouti are especially close to us. We all have troops fighting Islamic extremists in Somalia, you know. Under AMISOM, the African Union Mission to Somalia. A Peacekeeping, or perhaps more accurately, a peacemaking mission."

"We read the papers occasionally." Kate replied. So far, she couldn't see what this was all about.

"We recently sent a battalion to the Central African Republic due to the violence there. We have friends in central Africa, as well as France, the United Kingdom, and of course, the United States."

"You have a lot of friends." Castle said.

"We have enemies as well. The Hutus who caused the genocide in Rwanda in 1994 now live in the eastern Congo. Uganda has the Lord's Resistance Army, a particularly vicious group, we all have problems with the various factions in Somalia."

"So?"

"We, our friends and Rwanda, spend a great deal of money with Russia, Belarus, Ukraine, Armenia, Kazakhstan, and others. We deal mostly with the governments or private companies that are closely aligned with the governments. We have made it quite clear to them that we do not want them selling weapons to our enemies. Our combined sales are enough to insure they don't sell to our enemies. The man we believe is behind Mr. Guerrero's murder, named only as Blondie, intends to set up a worldwide arms corporation that will sell to anyone with money. This is not something that appeals to us. We cannot prevent our enemies from buying weapons from second or third tier arms dealers. However, those merchants sell shoddier goods at higher prices and can't get some items. But a world class arms merchant who'll sell to anyone? Many people wish to stop this."

"And you can stop this by doing what?" Kate asked.

O'Donnell pushed a file across his desk to Kate. "We do not know who this Blondie is, but we do know his, shall we say, representative, in New York. His name is Konrad Grohe, a German. He entered the former East German secret police, the STASI, just before the East German state collapsed in 1989. There were few jobs for secret policemen in the new Germany. He became a private investigator, and allegedly a blackmailer, a bodyguard for some not very talented pop stars, but in 2002 he ended up working in the Congo for the Kabila government. That was during the war there. He was in Congo until just a few months ago, we understand. I think you will find his dossier quite complete."

Kate looked through the file, with Rick looking over her shoulder. "Quite impressive, in fact." Rick said. "This is from Rwandan Intelligence? You have quite an operation it seems."

O'Donnell smiled deprecatingly. "As I said, we have many friends." He pulled a leather case from his jacket. "My card." He handed one to Kate and one to Rick. "Please call me if I can be of any assistance. Any time of the day or night."

Rick and Kate handed him their cards.

As they were driving away from the UN building, Rick looked at the business card. "Hugh Roe O'Donnell, Assistant to the Deputy Chief of Mission, Rwandan Mission to the United Nations." He read out loud. "That sounds like the job title they give a spy."

"You think?"

Rick sat quietly for a while. "You know, there have been over a hundred million Ak-47s built by different countries all around the world. Village gunsmiths in Afghanistan hand make copies of the AK, and China has factories that turn them out by the millions. In Africa, the AK-47 is called "the African credit card."

"Why?" Kate asked.

"You never leave home without it." Rick replied. "After the end of the Cold War, the Russians and others dumped their AKs on the world market. You could buy an assault rifle for as little as $20. Add in all the other weapons that were dumped on the international market by other countries, and the numbers of weapons in Third World countries is staggering. People who used to fight with antique rifles or bows and arrows can now kill each other with the very best First World weaponry."

Kate waited for Rick to go on, but he didn't. "And?" She finally asked.

"I just wonder what kind of world we're leaving to Alexis and to our kids."

"We're leaving the best world we possibly can, because we're going to work very hard to make a better world for them. No just you and me, but people like Espo and Ryan, Bear and his friends, and people we don't even know. We'll leave them the very best world we can."

"Have I mentioned lately just how much I love you?"

Kate smiled and reached over and squeezed Rick's thigh. "Yes, you have. But I do like hearing it over and over again."

"In that case, I love you more than anything, Kate."

"More than cheeseburgers?"

"Much more than cheeseburgers."

They rode back to the precinct in loving silence. As Kate was about to turn to go back to the precinct, Rick spoke. "Keep going straight. We need to go to LeatherWorld."

"LeatherWorld? Are you planning to get a little frisky tonight? If you are, I'm up for it."

"Good idea, but I need to buy a couple of holsters. But if I see anything I like, we can experiment tonight."

LeatherWorld was well named. If there was anything you could make out of leather, it was there, as Kate found out walking through the store.

"Kate, you wore your pistol in the small of your back when I first met you, you've also had a shoulder holster and a holster on your right hip. Which do you prefer?"

Kate shrugged. "It's personal preference. Just get what feels good for you."

Castle was approached by a salesman who apparently knew Castle. "Mr. Castle? Shopping for a holster this time are we?" He immediately held out an expensive hand tooled holster for Castle's approval. Rick's eyes lit up.

"Cool. Do you have one for a Beretta 92 and an ankle holster for a Beretta 9000?"

Kate looked at the price tag on the holster as the salesman went into the back for the appropriate holsters. "Really? You intend to walk around the station with a holster made from, " Kate switched to a Ricardo Montalban accent, "rich, Corinthian leather?" The boys will laugh themselves silly. I can take you to a police supply store with much more reasonable prices."

Rick's smile faded, but soon revived when the salesman returned.

Kate eventually persuaded Rick to buy a plain brown leather belt holster for the Model 92 and a similar holster for his backup gun, with some suitable magazine pouches.

Once back at the precinct, Rick could hardly wait to take off his jacket to show everyone his new purchases. However, guns in a police station are hardly noteworthy. No one noticed. Or at least pretended not to notice.

"What did you get us?" Jordan asked as Kate's team gathered around Espo's desk. Bear and his two companions drifted over to listen.

Kate briefed everyone and then handed over Grohe's file to Jordan, who looked through it and sent it off for copies to be made for everyone involved in the investigation.

"We also got the phone number of our new contact with the Rwandans, Mr. O'Donnell, a white African, of all things. Copy down his name and number. He said we can call any time day or night, so if you need something from him, take him at his word."

Ryan took the card and laughed. "Hugh Roe O'Donnell, sometimes known as Red Hugh O'Donnell, the Earl of Tyrconnell? You met him?"

"You know him?" Kate and Rick asked.

"Not the same one, I'm afraid. Hugh Roe O'Donnell and Hugh O'Neill, the Earl of Tyrone led the Irish resistance to the Elizabethan conquest of Ireland in the 1590s. They were beaten by the English and fled Ireland. The Flight of the Earls was a sad page in Irish history."

Jordan Shaw thought for a second. "If O'Donnell is a spy, he might be using a fictitious name. I'd like to know more about him. I'll call our liaison with the CIA and see if we can get anything on him."

Rick looked up. "Maybe I can help."

"You know someone who'd know about O'Donnell?" Jordan asked.

"He knows someone who knows something about everything and everyone." Kate replied.

"And I do. Let me call and see if I can get ahold of him." Castle retreated back to Kate's desk.

In a few minutes he was back, with a not all together pleased look on his face. "I got ahold of him and he's available."

"Who?" Jordan asked.

"James Shellbarger, the foreign correspondent. He's concentrated on Africa the last ten or twelve years and he's doing a series for the _New Yorker_ on the jihadists and the wars in the Sahel, that's the patch of Africa between the Sahara Desert and the jungles. He's off to Mali tomorrow, but he can see us tonight."

"I'll get my coat." Kate said, getting up.

"There's one thing." Rick said, looking a bit embarrassed.

"One thing?" Kate asked.

"He's spending his last night here at Extravaganza. He said he'd get us a table."

"I'll go." Both Ryan and Esposito spoke at once, Ryan holding up his hand as he did.

"Why are the two detectives so anxious to go with you?" Jordan asked, suspiciously.

There was an embarrassed silence until Kate finally answered. "Extravaganza is New York's most expensive strip club. It's harder to get a reservation there than at most of the first class restaurants."

"And you know this how?" Rick asked.

"I'm a cop."

"And?"

Kate glared at Rick. "Well, I used to dance there, of course."

"You did?" Rick screeched.

"You are still _so_ easy, Castle. When I was a beat cop we got a call from there. JoElly Sands, the pop diva was there, drunk and stripping on stage. They wanted her out of their place."

"Why?" Epso asked. Kate ignored him.

"So wouldn't it be safer if two married men went?" Ryan asked.

"It would be safer if a married couple went." Kate said, brooking no argument.

"But you might need someone in case of trouble?" Bear said from over her shoulder.

"Then we'll call you." She said with a smile.

As they left, Espo motioned to Castle to come over. "Take pictures, bro."

"Tell us all about it." Ryan added.

Rick shrugged. "What's to tell? You've seen naked women before, right?" And he walked off after Kate.

"Whipped." Espo muttered.

"Totally whipped." Ryan added.

Extravaganza reminded Kate of the St. Petersburg restaurant. It was ostentatiously decorated from top to bottom. The crowd looked much the same, wealthy looking men, usually alone, or in groups, and those with dates were with much younger women. There were only waitresses, however, and one came up to them as they entered. "May I help you?" She asked, bending over to show a great deal of cleavage.

Rick smiled and handed her a twenty dollar bill. "We're with James Shellbarger. Could you take us to his table please?"

"Shelly? Of course! We're always happy to see him and his friends here." Her smile almost seemed genuine.

"A twenty?" Kate hissed as they followed the waitress to a table right by the stage. 

"I always tip well." Rick replied. "It often helps."

"Helps what?" Kate muttered, but Rick couldn't hear her over the noise of the band.

"Shelly, your friends are here. I brought them right over." She said, bending low over the small table.

"Of course you did, Champagne. Now be a dear and get me another vodka martini and whatever my friends want." He handed her a bill and from her smile, Kate figured Shelly wouldn't get any change.

"Scotch on the rocks. Laphroaig, if you have it." Castle said, sitting down.

"We do, sir."

"Diet soda." Kate said. Champagne scurried off.

"Shelly, this is my wife, Detective Kate Beckett, New York's best detective."

Shelly looked over Kate. She did the same to Shelly. He had a full head of snow white hair and a matching beard, with warm brown eyes. He smiled at Kate and from the looks of it, he probably smiled a lot. Unlike most of the men in Extravaganza, he was simply dressed: Khaki slacks, a blue work shirt with the sleeves rolled up. A brown leather jacket was over the back of his chair.

"Third wife, Ricky?"

"Final wife. This one is forever." Kate smiled and took Rick's hand under the table.

"I said the same thing about my third wife." Shelly grimaced. "Maybe that's why I married her again. I can't figure out if that makes her my third and fifth wife, or my third wife twice."

"Mr. Shellbarger…" Kate began.

"Shelly. Call me Shelly, everybody does. Well, except for those police who arrested me in Cairo. What they called me I can't repeat. Even to a cop. I was going to see a contact…"

Castle stopped him. "Shelly, we need some information on this Rwandan I mentioned, O'Donnell."

Just then there was a drum roll and the announcer came on the PA. "Ladies and gentlemen, the Extravaganza is proud to present…." There was another drum roll…"Her Highness, Queen Liz."

Shelly lost all interest in them at once.

The band started in on the Stones' Paint it Black and the stripper came out on stage. She was a tall, well-built redhead whose breasts, Kate felt, were obviously fake. She wore a gown that covered her from neck to ankles, skintight and modeled on the British Union Jack.

"Get a load of this one, Ricky." Shelly said.

Rick was staring stolidly at his drink.

Kate reached over and whispered in his ear, squeezing his hand as she spoke. "I did say it was okay to look, Rick."

He shook his head. "The last thing I want is for a picture of me to end up on Page Six with me staring at some babe's boobs with my wife sitting next to me."

"I'll make it up to you, then. How about I do a striptease for you tonight?"

"And I'll do one for you." He said back with a smile.

Kate heard a roar of applause from the audience and looked up. She could see what excited them, even if she didn't understand it. Queen Liz's top was off and her boobs were huge. Kate thought that they must be double or triple E cups, or even larger. Even odder, as she danced around, her boobs sat rock steady on her chest. They didn't bounce, they didn't jiggle, they didn't so much as twitch.

"My god." She said out loud, "That must be like feeling up a fireplug."

"That's exactly what it's like." Shelly replied.

Eventually, Queen Liz's dance was over and they were able to talk to Shelly.

"O"Donnell, you say? Big fellow, well-muscled, salt and pepper hair, big black mustache and works for the Rwandans. Yeah, I know him. Ran into him in the Congo a couple of years back. What do you want to know?"

Castle explained as much as he could without giving the case away to a reporter. Just that they had a murder involving a gun runner who maybe had contacts in Africa and O'Donnell had given them some information.

Shelly shrugged. "O'Donnell's an intelligence type, so be careful of what he gives you, he'll have his own agenda. So, let me start at the beginning. He was born in Rhodesia, now Zimbabwe. When majority rule came, he was just short of being of age to go into the Rhodesian Army to fight the rebels. His father was an Army officer, Rhodesian Light Infantry. Not the new government's favorite people, as you'd guess. So the family headed for South Africa, who had their own war. This would be 1980, or maybe '81. Young Hugh joined the South African Defense Forces. He went into their airborne, went to officer's school and ended up in South West Africa, mostly with 201 Battalion. That's a unit formed out of Bushmen. They live out in the Kalahari desert. Make good soldiers and good trackers. Unlike a lot of South Africans, he has no trouble working with, or for, Blacks. He's an equal opportunity killer, he'll kill anyone. After Mandela brought in majority rule, O'Donnell soldiered on. He was with Executive Outcomes, the mercenary outfit, in Angola and then in Sierra Leone. I first met him there in '90, or so. Scary guy, but good at his job. He got on with the Rwandan Patriotic Front when they were a guerilla army, in maybe 1993. Now that they're the government, he's an important man, and a colonel in the army."

"What kind of things does he do?" Kate asked.

"Lately he's been handling their overseas weapons procurement, buying things that a guerilla army trying to be a regular army has no experience with, such as artillery, tanks, helicopters, and such. He's supposed to be in the US selling a load of coltan, a mineral used in a lot of electronic devices, mostly in cell phones. The Rwandans buy the stuff dirt cheap from crooked warlords in the Congo and resell it to fund their army. Supposedly, once he gets the money, he'll buy some Russian helicopter gunships."

"So he must know a lot about arms dealers." Kate said.

"You bet. And if there was a new player with big ambitions like your Blondie, O'Donnell would want to shut him down."

"New player? Blondie? Who are they?" Castle said with his best poker face.

"I'm a reporter, Ricky. We hear a lot of chatter, too." Shelly added what he knew about Blondie, which was less than they already knew.

There was another drum roll from the band announcing another stripper. Castle got up. "Thanks a lot, Shelly. Have fun in Africa. We have to be going."

Shelly frowned. "You're not staying? I thought maybe the little woman would show these girls how it's done."

Kate smiled and said good bye to Shelly. As they left, she whispered in Rick's ear. "The little woman will show you how it's done. And remember, in the Castle household, sex is not a spectator sport."


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: See all prior disclaimers I've ever written. Rating: K Time: Season 7?

Rick and Kate came into the bull pen looking only slightly the worse for wear from their activities of the night before, not all of which were at Extravaganza.

"I can't believe what a great dancer you are. So flexible." Castle whispered in her ear.

"You're not so bad yourself." She whispered back.

"Hey, look who's here." Castle said, pointing.

Kate looked. Sitting in the bullpen was a tall, skinny young man in an orange prison jumpsuit. Next to him, taking a mile a minute and smiling hugely was Agent Hayes. "That must be her boyfriend, Jerry."

Rick nodded. "Isn't young love grand?"

"It certainly is." Kate said, and started giggling. She stopped when Jordan poked her head out of her office and motioned for them to come in. "Come in and sit." She said. Once they were seated, Jordan referred to a file on her desk. "Hayes finished with the photos on Konev's memory stick. The results aren't good. Our boy Grohe is good. He went into stores, bought one thing, talked to the store clerk, wrote something down on the receipt, then stuck it in a doorway a block down. Then he'd repeat the same trick, over and over, with variations, of course."

"He's trying to throw off any one who's tailing him. Ninety percent of what he's doing is bogus, but there's so much of it, we'll miss the one thing he does that's actually important." Kate said.

"Tradecraft." Rick added. "He's trained."

"Tell me about it." Jordan said sarcastically. Then she shook her head. "Forget that. It's just the frustration talking. I miss having my whole team here. It's just so damned…."

"Frustrating?" Castle finished for her.

"You always had an excellent grasp of the obvious, Castle."

"One of my many talents."

At that remark, Kate burst into giggles. Jordan looked at the two and decided she didn't want to ask. "Okay, I've sent uniforms out to follow Grohe's trail, but if anything he did the other day was for real and not just to screw with potential tails, we may be too late. Any ideas?"

Kate and Rick looked at each other and then said "No." in unison.

"Do you two practice that?"

"No." They said, again in unison.

"Get out of here. We got some background on Grohe and a tiny bit on Blondie from our good friends at CIA. The report is on Kate's desk."

Rick and Kate turned to go, only to find their way blocked by Agent Hayes and her orange clad boyfriend.

"Um, Agent Shaw. Um…" Hayes began. Then nudged her boyfriend.

"Agent Shaw, we have run into a problem."

"Oh?" She said. Jordan motioned for Rick and Kate to stay. "And the problem is?"

"We can't contact either of the burner phones that Sandy found, the ones for your killer and this Blondie. They might have taken the batteries out, or even tossed them into the Hudson. Some people, really paranoid people, or people with lots of real enemies, sometimes do that. They get lots of burner phones and toss them after using them only a couple of times. Your guy might have done that."

"Are you telling us you can't help us?" Jordan asked very quietly.

"NO!" Hayes yelled, then blushed bright red and stared at the floor.

"Um, not ma'am." Jerry continued. "We did find out that this Blondie uses the internet and communicates to an ISP, internet service provider, in Ukraine. Blondie also uses cyphers when he communicates via E-mail. They look like they're one time pads."

"One time pads?" Kate asked.

Castle was happy to explain. "Using a computer you can generate a nearly infinite number of absolutely random combinations of letters to use as a code key. Since you only use each key one time, the usual tricks for code breaking don't work. In a code used multiple times you can break it by looking for the most used letters. In English that's E-A-O-T-I-N and so on. The most common letter in your coded message is probably E, and so forth. "

"I see. I think." Kate said.

"So we're at a dead end?" Jordan asked.

"I tracked his e-mails to the Ukraine ISP and I can get through the firewall there, but the guy in Ukraine will know he's been hacked. He'll contact Blondie at once and they'll change everything and we'll be back to square one. Or worse, since they'll know someone hacked them."

"You have a plan no doubt?"

"Yes, Agent Shaw." Jerry replied, putting his arm around Sandy Hayes.

"And?"

"I'll call the guy in Ukraine up and get him to let us through the firewall."

"And the guy in Ukraine is?"

"Yuri the Hammer." Jerry said quietly.

"Yuri the Hammer?" Shaw barked. "You expect me to let you call Yuri the Hammer and ask him for a favor. Do you know what a giant pain in the ass he's been to the whole US government? And you think he's just going to let you waltz right through his firewall to get to Blondie."

"Sure, if I ask him the right way." Jerry smiled and outlined his plan.

When he was done, Shaw looked over at Kate and Rick. "What do you think?"

Castle shrugged. "He lost me just after, "Here's what I want to do…""

Kate nodded her head. "Me too."

Jordan looked at Kate and Rick. "You two stay with Romeo and Joliet Jake here. keep an eye and ear on him." She turned to Jerry, "And if you do anything, anything at all illegal, I'll have you in a Super Max so fast, you'll think you exceeded the speed of light. Understand?"

"No problem." Jerry said with a smile. He took Sandy Hayes's hand and walked back to his computer with Rick and Kate close behind.

Kate whispered in Rick's ear. "I didn't know she knew I spoke Russian."

"You're famous, Tatiana." Rick joked.

"I'm going to Skype to Yuri. This isn't going to work if he sees me in my day-glo orange onesie." Jerry said sourly.

"I can get your stuff, Jerry." Hayes said. "I have it in my car."

"In your car?" Kate asked pointedly.

"She wasn't planning on smuggling a file into me inside a cake." Jerry said as Sandy ran out. "She likes to sleep in my stuff, that's all. I'm going to do my time and go into business for myself. Computer security, naturally."

Kate rolled her eyes and Jerry laughed.

Hayes came back in a few minutes. Jerry was soon dressed in a pair of Levi's and a tee shirt that read

KEEP CLAM

AND

SPELLCHECK

Jerry rearranged the computer so that Yuri would see a view of New York and not the inside of a precinct. Jerry made the call.

"Hello?"

"Yo! Yuri. It's me." Jerry said happily." How's it hanging?"

"Skinny! I wondered why the chief of the LA Fire Department was calling me."

"He's a pal. I'm sure he won't mind if I use his number."

"Sure. Say, I thought you were in durance vile?"

"I got released. My conviction was overturned on appeal. I'm out. That's why I wanted to talk to you."

"You need a little work done? Something you can't do? I know I'm better than you are, but to hear you admit it…is surprising."

"Please, Yuri. A little humility on your part, please? This is my problem: They're planning on re-trying me. Normally, I wouldn't worry. But while I was inside, I did something silly."

"Oh, no, Skinny! You're someone's bitch now?"

"Yuri! Really. No, what happened was I bragged just a little."

"A little? I always knew your mouth was too wide. Way too wide. So?"

"So some thug with an IQ lower than his hat size is going to testify about what I said. Normally, the cons would shut him down for such a breach of prison ethics, but he has a pal on the outside. The pal apparently has connections. He wants the thug out, for some unknown reason, so the thug gets a parole if I go back. Mr. Pal works through you. I'd like to send him a little message, you know?"

"Who's your boy?" Yuri asked.

Jerry recited the ISP.

Yuri was silent for a while. "He's a good customer and a very bad man. You don't want to tangle with him."

"Yuri, I'm already tangling with him. What's it going to do my precious reputation if some goon who can't program his VCR without help sends me back to jail? Do you know what years without a computer are like for a wizard such as myself? Besides, all you have to do is tell him you got hacked."

"Tell him I got hacked? Like you could hack me, especially if I know you're coming? Keep it real, Skinny."

"You think we can't hack you while you watch us do it?"

"We?"

Sandy moved into the view of the computer. "Hi, Yuri. I'm Cinderella. Nice to meet you."

Yuri was laughing. "Cinderella? Really? Skinny and…Cinderella are going to hack me?"

"Really, and when we do, you can tell your pal you were hacked by the best."

"Okay. You can try." Yuri cut the connection.

What happened next, Castle couldn't say, except that it took hours and was conducted entirely in cyber-geek-speak.

"Mamacita! We're in! I'm into Blondie's computer! Downloading now!" Jerry screamed as Sandy kissed him. Jordan Shaw stick her head out of her office and then headed for Jerry.

"You have access to Blondie's computer?" She asked.

"Oh, Crap!" Jerry yelled. "He's online! He's gotta know he's being hacked! If that bastard Yuri called him, I'll destroy that Slavic simpleton, I'll…Crap! The download has stopped. He probably pulled his hard drive out. I hope it falls into a vat of battery acid, with you still holding it!" Jerry screamed at the absent Blondie.

"Do you really think Yuri called Blondie?" Hayes asked.

"Nah." Jerry said. "It was too quick, to begin with, and Yuri would never admit someone hacked him. He'd rather die." Jerry giggled.

"What did we get?" Shaw interrupted.

"I don't know." Jerry answered. "A lot of it looks encrypted, but some of it isn't."

"Can you print out what's not encrypted so I can give it to the detectives while you two try to decrypt the rest?"

"Sure thing, Agent Shaw." Jerry replied smugly. "But this guy is good. I'd be surprised if you get anything."

"Humor me." She snapped.

Jerry was wrong. It took less than five minutes for Ryan to yell, "Hey! I got something." Everyone rushed to Ryan's desk. "He ordered burner phones from a dozen different dealers, using different names and credit cards each time. But they were all sent to a Franz Vogel at the Warwick in Manhattan. The last one was delivered at ten this morning."

"Vogel has got to be Grohe's alias." Jordan said, happily. "Beckett, get your people together." She turned to Bear. "Are you up for this?"

Bear smiled. "Why, I thought you'd never ask."

In fifteen minutes they were at the Warwick, and in seventeen minutes, they were disappointed.

"Yes, officer." The desk clerk said to Kate, "that's Mr. Vogel, but he checked out at about ten thirty this morning."

"Did he leave a forwarding address?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"Can we see his room?"

"I'm afraid it's occupied. But I suppose..."

"Did you replace the linens?" Esposito asked over Kate's shoulder.

The desk clerk bridled. "Of course we did! We replaced everything and comprehensively cleaned the entire room."

Kate nodded. "Okay. Espo, you and Ryan look at the room. We'll talk to the maids, bellhops, room service waiters, anyone that might have dealt with Grohe."

They got lucky with the doorman. "Yes, Detective. Mr. Vogel asked me to get him a cab. I remember him. He was a good tipper."

"Do you know the cab he took?" Kate asked.

"Sure. It was Rudy, Rudy Reynoso."

"How can we find him?" Castle asked.

"Hey, Rudy!" The doorman yelled to a group of cabbies gathered around one cab. A man detached himself from the group and walked over. He told them that he had taken Grohe to an address in Brooklyn.

"Where?" Castle asked.

"You won't find him there. I went to get a cup of coffee and saw him getting in another cab. Do you want to talk to the cabbie?"

Kate called the cabbie who directed them to an address in Manhattan. Twenty minutes later, they were on that street in Manhattan.

"He won't have gotten off at the address he was going to. I just hope he didn't grab another cab, or get on the subway." Jordan said. "Okay, split up and look around. Ask anyone you can find if they've seen Grohe. Everyone have his picture?"

They did and set off.

In five minutes Espo was back with a heavily built African-American cop in tow. "Everybody, this is the very observant Officer Tom Lane. Lane, tell us what you saw a couple of hours ago."

Lane looked around at the plain clothes officers and began. "I was over on the street corner, talking to Mr. Goldstein. He owns a little shop here. Likes to look outside, so I stop and talk to him to see what's going on. About three hours ago, I saw your suspect get out of a cab at midblock." He gestured behind him. "Then he started to walk up the street. Then he crossed the street and kept going. Kind of weird, why not have your cab drop you where you were going? So I tailed him. He went to a warehouse a couple of blocks away."

"What did he do?" Kate asked.

"Went inside. The loading dock doors were all closed and the office door he went through closed behind him. It was strange, but no probable cause."

"Okay. Can you take us there?"

"You bet, Detective Beckett. "

When they got to the warehouse, Kate peered around the side of a building. "Any back way out?"

Lane nodded. "Just the back way. It leads out to a narrow alley. The other buildings are built right up against that one. There are no connecting doors."

"Lane, you and…" Kate looked over at Bear "…Sergeant Cuchillo take the back. The two of you should be enough. Radio us when you're in position."

"Do it, Jose." Bear nodded to his sergeant. The two policemen took off.

Kate turned to the rest of her team. "Two of the loading dock doors are open and there's a truck parked by the near one. We can just walk up and look inside. We won't need a warrant, and if we see anything illegal, we can go right in."

Lane radioed in. They were ready.

"Okay, Castle, you're with me. We go to the near door. Espo and Ryan, you take the far door. Bear, will you and Sergeant Bredi please cover us and make sure no one comes at us from the office door on this side? Then be ready to back us up in case of trouble."

"We'd be pleased as punch to do just that." Bear said with a smile.

"Why aren't you as polite as these two?" Kate teased Espo and Ryan.

"A polite cop in New York would die very young." Espo shot back.

"I'm known for my gentlemanly ways." Castle said.

"Whipped." Ryan muttered.

Kate checked out the parked truck. It was empty. Castle peeked inside. There was nothing. He sniffed loudly. "I'm sure I smell marijuana. If someone were driving under the influence…"

"Right you are." Kate motioned the rest of her team forward. The warehouse was filled with boxes crates, scattered about with no particular system evident. Suddenly, two men walked out, carrying a heavy crate between them. "NYPD!" Kate announced. "We need to talk to you."

The two men looked at each other, then dropped the case and ran. The case spilled open, revealing assault rifles.

Kate yelled into her radio. "Lane, two are coming towards you."

Ryan yelled. "I saw someone else running, too."

"There may be more." Kate yelled, breaking into a run.

Before she had taken her second step, an automatic weapon briefly chattered. Kate dived one way, Castle the other. Castle ducked behind a solid looking crate and pulled his weapon. He looked around. Then he saw Kate, blood on her face. "Kate!" He screamed. He stood and ran towards his wife. He saw chips of concrete fly up from the bullet impacts. He fired his weapon in the general direction of the enemy and then dove behind a pallet and beside Kate. "Kate! You're wounded. You're bleeding."

Kate looked up at him. "I hit my head on the edge of the damned crate. It's just a cut." She tried to sit up to look around, but Castle pushed her down.

"Rick!" She said testily. "I'm fine."

"I'll be the judge of that." Castle answered.

"No, I'll be the judge of that."Cuchillo said quietly. "I'm a medic, remember." He knelt beside Kate. "Okay, let me look at you." He began unloading medical supplies from his pockets. "I always like to travel with my gear when I'm out and about." He said cheerfully.

"What happened?" Kate asked, trying to get up.

Espo came over. "We have four guys face down in the back. One of them said Grohe was here with another German. The two shooters are dead. We're still looking for Grohe and his pal."

"Dammit!" That was Bear from somewhere in the back of the warehouse.

"What is it?" Espo called.

"If you go up these stairs, there's a door to the damned roof. They've gone. The door's open and the roof is clear. They're gone."

Cuchillo finished up with Kate just as the police cars began arriving. "Your wife just got a nasty cut, Mr. Castle. But she's going to have to go to the emergency room to be checked out."

"What?" Kate cried. "You just said all I have is a cut."

"Yup, and a blow to the head. You could have internal damage. As the medic present, I'm ordering you to the ER."

"You're a cop, not a doctor!" Kate replied, glaring at Cuchillo.

"Would you care to see my medical qualifications? I have an MS in trauma medicine from UCLA, then there's my…"

"Beckett." Ryan interrupted. "Gates is on the horn. She heard you were injured and wants you in the ER. Department policy."

Kate glared at one and all and headed for her car.

"I should drive." Castle said following her. "You're in no shape."

"Castle!"

Three hours later a still angry Kate walked into the precinct and walked up to Esposito, with Castle close behind. "Can I get in on an interrogation?"

Espo shook his head. "I'm afraid your talents were unneeded."

"They won't talk?"

"Just the opposite. We can hardly stop them talking. They all want to make any deal they can."

"The problem is getting them to shut up." Ryan added. "And they really don't know anything. They were hired by Hans, who they identified as Grohe, to drive a truck from here to Cincinnati, Ohio. They saw another guy, who they identified as a German with Grohe. We have each of them with the sketch artist now, but they saw no one else. They did say Grohe went to a quick meeting, maybe an hour earlier this morning, probably with Blondie."

"What's in Ohio?" Castle asked.

"Another warehouse." Bear answered. "Not an uncommon way to move contraband. You get your, say weapons, off the boat in New York. Hire a bunch of low level types to take your stuff to Ohio. Transfer it to another truck with four new people and they take it to say, Missouri. Transfer your weapons again, hire four new villains and take it to the Mexican border. There you have your own people who know how to get your stuff across the border. If any of your low rent weapon mules get picked up along the way, all they can tell you is where they got their leg of the shipment. By the time law enforcement tracks it back to the point of origin, the shot callers are long gone."

"Shit!" Castle and Beckett muttered together.

"We did get some good news." Espo said. "We found a blood trail leading to the roof and across the roof to a fire escape on the north side of the warehouse. Someone stopped a bullet. We have a BOLO out to all hospital emergency rooms, doctor's offices, the usual suspects. We might get lucky."

Kate's phone rang. "It's a text from Lanie. Coming, Castle?"

Rick and Kate walked into the morgue and were greeted by Lanie. "Are you okay, honey?"

"I'm just fine." Castle answered. Bothe Lanie and Kate glared at him.

"I got a bump on the head. It's nothing. What do you have? Are you done with the autopsies on the two dead shooters?"

Lanie nodded. "That's not what I wanted to talk to you about. There's really nothing in the autopsies. It's something else."

"What?" Again, Kate and Rick were in unison. Lanie just smiled.

"I looked at the preliminary reports of the shootings. The two shooters were on a walkway above the main floor of the warehouse about sixty yards from you. They were firing AK-47s. Shooter number one was between two small crates, there would have been little but part of his face and his right arm visible. The second shooter was running to his left, also on the elevated walkway, apparently trying to get away."

"Okay, sounds about right." Kate said. "So?"

"There were fifty-seven rounds fired by the police. Fifty-five were 9mm and two were .45 caliber." Lanie walked to the morgue tables and pulled the sheets off of the corpses. "This is shooter number one." She pointed to a bullet wound in the center of his forehead. She turned to the other table. "This is shooter number two." She pointed to a bullet wound just above the right ear.

"Good shooting." Kate said. "At the Academy, we were told that a shot at more than fifty feet wasn't worth the effort. You had too low a probability of a hit, but with fifty-seven rounds being fired, I guess someone had to get lucky. Sixty meters is…"

"A hundred and ninety-six feet, and a bit." Castle said.

"It wasn't luck. Both of the kill shots were from the .45. "Lanie said.

"Both kill shots?" Kate asked. "Who had the .45?"

"Sergeant Martin Bredi. I talked to Esposito and he said that kind of shooting just isn't possible."

"We have two people who'd disagree if they could." Castle said.

"We'll have to remember not to get Sergeant Bredi mad at us." Kate said softly.


	10. Chapter 10

10IllMan

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: I do not even own a little Castle. Rating: K+ Time: Season 7

Rick and Kate left the morgue and headed for the elevator. Before they got there, Castle stopped and put his arms around Kate. "I love you."

Kate rested her head on his chest. "I know. I love you, too."

He ran his hand lightly over the bandage on her forehead. "Do you remember what I said to you when I proposed?"

Kate smiled up at him. "Every word."

"I told you I couldn't imagine my life without you. When I saw you on the floor, bleeding from a head wound, I had a sudden, terrifying look at what my life would be like without you. It wouldn't be worth living."

"I am not going anywhere. I will be with you. Always." She reached up and kissed him softly.

"I know. It's just that…"

"I'm not going to stop being a cop." She said softly.

"I know. I wouldn't expect you to. With Bracken and who knows who else out there, I wouldn't want you to. It's just that you've had so much pain in your life, I just want to take all the pain away and replace it with joy. I'll never be able to do that."

"I expect you to keep trying though. You might just succeed. You're a very stubborn man, Mr. Castle. You spent five years getting me to a place where I could accept how I felt about you."

"You are a very remarkable woman, Mrs. Castle. Five years is nothing. I intend to spend the rest of my life with you."

"In this hallway?" She teased.

He smiled and kissed her quickly. "We should get back to work."

When they got off the elevator, Jordan Shaw waved for them to join her at Esposito's desk. "You are all going to have to be here at 8AM tomorrow. There's going to be a shooting investigation on today's shooting. It'll be a joint review between the NYPD and the FBI. I expect trouble."

"Trouble!" Esposito exploded. "This was a righteous shoot. How the hell can those clowns at One PP find otherwise?" He looked up at Shaw, remembering that the FBI would also be involved.

Shaw laughed. "The fatal shots were fired by a Native American Tribal Policeman from New Mexico who's here at the invitation of the FBI, although the BIA requested they be involved. There are also two other New Mexico cops and no one here has any jurisdiction over any of the three of them. From what the good Captain Dos Osos tells me, Apache Tribal Courts take a much looser attitude to shootings than the NYPD or the FBI. Plus, we have a civilian who fired an entire magazine, who works with, but not for, the NYPD and has a Federal concealed carry permit courtesy of the FBI. In short this has all the makings of an administrative nightmare that could last for years if anyone puts a foot wrong. So what we will probably see tomorrow is a fine example of bureaucracy in inaction. All those people trying to avoid saying or doing anything that could come back to bite them in the ass, and still look like they did something."

'Can I bring popcorn?" Castle asked.

Shaw shook her head. "You'll never change. Take Kate home if you will, and see to it she gets a good night's sleep." Kate started to object, but Shaw waved her into silence. "You were in a firefight today and you took a blow to the head. Go home with your husband. Now! No arguments."

They went home and Rick nervously puttered his way through making dinner, continuously asking Kate how she felt.

"Castle, I am not an infant. I got a bump on my head. That's all."

"I just want to…"

"Smother me with affection and attention. I know. But I don't need it. Save some for when I really need it, okay?"

Castle smiled at the love of his life. "Okay. And dinner's ready."

After dinner and some TV, they prepared for bed. Castle was shocked when Beckett came out of the bathroom. "You're wearing your shorty, see-through nightie?"

"And nothing else." Kate pirouetted to show him the truth of her statement.

"Kate…" Castle couldn't think of what to say next as Kate advanced towards him with a friendly, but predatory smile.

The next morning, they arrived at the precinct early.

"If that's you after a firefight and a bump on the head, I'd hate to see you if something bad happened to you." He whispered in her ear.

"It has more to do with a certain ruggedly handsome husband of mine running through automatic weapons fire to see if I was okay. I don't ever want you to do that again, but if you have to, you'll get a similar reward." She nipped his ear with her teeth and then kissed his ear.

Espo made sure he looked up well after the kiss. "The shooting team is here. All the officers involved are here now and we have a rep from the police union. I guess we're ready. I'll let Captain Gates and Agent Shaw know we're ready."

The shooting panel was anticlimactic. Shaw was right in her supposition that the panel members would not want to create an administrative disaster of epic proportions. Plus, they were interviewed individually and each was warned not to discuss their testimony with anyone else.

When it was over and the panel had left, Bear disregarded their orders. "I was amazed myself." He said, motioning to Sergeant Bredi. "Martin here gave the panel two complete sentences. A major oration for our boy. Why, at this rate, old Martin might get himself up to twenty, even thirty words a day. How will we stand such a barrage of words? Martin, you amaze me."

Bredi shrugged.

"That's what I thought you'd say." Bear said with a huge smile.

Kate got a phone call on her landline. "Who wants to see me?" She asked. "Sure, send him up." She put the phone down. "Our friend Mr. O'Donnell from Rwanda is down stairs. Apparently he has something for us."

O'Donnell did indeed have something. "I found some information on the second German who was assisting Grohe in moving the weapons you intercepted." He put a file on Kate's desk. "Erwin Rohm, born in the former East Germany, enlisted in the unified German army in 2000. Joined an airborne brigade, but was kicked out of the army in 2003 because of his extreme right wing and racist views. He been a bully boy for various right wing movements in Europe since then. Got arrested in Italy for taking part in a brawl with some African illegal immigrants. The charges were dismissed because the victims took off before the court date. He did six months in France in 2009 for carrying a concealed weapon, a knuckleduster knife. He disappeared about a year ago and is alleged to have gone to work for Grohe."

Kate looked over the file and passed it around for everyone to look at. "Okay, add Rohm to the BOLO on Grohe. Maybe we'll get lucky." She turned to O'Donnell. "Thank you. You seem to have very good sources of information."

O'Donnell just smiled and changed the subject. "I you catch either of these two, could you let me know. I'd like to sit in on the investigation. Strictly as an observer of course. And to share any knowledge I may have."

Kate looked over at Jordan who nodded after a second.

"Fine, and now I fear I must get back to the UN."

O'Donnell left. Kate had copies of Rohm's file made so everyone could study it. They were still studying when Ryan's phone rang.

"We may have something." Ryan said.

"Tell us." Kate said.

"We sent out BOLOs to every hospital, clinic, doctor's office, pharmacy and medical supply place in the city. Something just popped. A guy came into a medical supply store in midtown and bought bandages, surgical tape, scalpels, saline solution and a whole load of other things useful for those with gunshot wounds. And he bought a copy of a US Army manual on wound trauma for medics. Best of all, the clerk recognized the customer from when he worked in a hospital." Ryan held out a rap sheet with the subject's picture on top. "Meet Monroe Clifford. A one-time med student who tried to supplement his income by stealing and reselling hospital drugs. Since he got out of jail, he's apparently been doing unlicensed medical work for those who'd rather not have to explain how they got gunshot wounds."

"Do we have an address?" Beckett asked.

Ryan held up a post-it with an address on it. "I thought you'd never ask."

Half an hour later, Beckett and her team, plus Bear and his people, huddled outside the suspects apartment in a decidedly low rent building.

"Okay." She whispered. "We didn't have enough for a warrant, so we just knock on the door, identify ourselves, and…"

"Identify ourselves? Are you crazy? What if someone inside starts shooting? At my lovely wife?"

"Do you want to wait until he decides to come out?" Kate whispered. "We could be here all day."

Castle smiled. "Hey Petey Boy!" He yelled loudly. "You were right! I got some primo blow. I got four oh zees, enough for us to have a good time. Open up, Petey."

They heard curses from inside the apartment. "Go away. No Petey here."

"Oh, man!" Castle cried dramatically. "You have the girls inside and you aren't going to share? You can't be serious! I've got cocaine out here, man. Let's party! I got plenty of cocaine!"

The door flew open and an unshaven man stood there. "There ain't no Petey…" Then he saw the cops and froze. Behind him on the couch was an injured man.

"NYPD!" Kate barked, pushing past Clifford. "Erwin Rohm, you're under arrest."

Rohm just groaned. Clifford finally spoke. "He needs a hospital. I did what I could for him, but…"

Several hours later, Kate and her people were back at the precinct debriefing Jordan Shaw. "Rohm took two slugs. One just grazed his ribs, but the other was in the hip. He's lost some blood and has a low grade infection, but the doctors say we can interrogate him at the hospital tomorrow around noon. I'm hoping we can get him to roll over on Grohe. I have uniforms outside his room with orders to keep any visitors out. What should we do until then?" 

Shaw smiled. "Why, Mr. Castle's favorite occupation. Your uniforms have finally finished tracing Grohe's route on his little ramble the other night. You get to review their reports to see if anything shakes out. Okay?"

"Boring police procedural work?" Castle asked. "As your volunteer homicide cop, I think I'll head for home."

"Okay, Castle." Kate said. "I'll see you later." She leaned over and kissed his lips lightly. Then frowned and put her hand to her head.

"Something wrong?" Castle asked, very concerned.

"It's probably just eye strain, Rick. You go on home. Maybe you could write some more? Aren't you a little behind?"

"Behind? Not at all. In fact, there are a lot of interesting things in police reports. They're practically a crime novel in and of themselves. I bet I'll get lots of good ideas." Castle put his arm around Beckett and led her to her desk.

Jordan Shaw looked at Ryan and Esposito. "Is Kate that good, or is Castle that dumb?"

Esposito laughed. "Both. Since they got married, Castle hates to not be around Beckett, but he's got a well-established loathing of paper work and he'd hate for anyone to think that he's changed. So Beckett manages to find a way for him to stay with her without making it look like Castle has given in."

Jordan smiled. "That's sweet." Ryan nodded in agreement. Esposito mouthed the word "whipped".

Early the next morning, Kate got a phone call from Mr. O'Donnell. He had received the police records from Italy and France on Rohm as well as some German intelligence reports. "Not much there we didn't know, but who knows what might be valuable. What do you say we all meet for a late breakfast tomorrow and then go to the hospital to interrogate Rohm?" Kate agreed.

Next morning Kate, Rick, and her team along with Bear and his team, and Jordan Shaw, met with Mr. O'Donnell at a restaurant popular with UN diplomats. O'Donnell played the gracious host. "Please sit down and look at the menu. They have foods from all over the world here. "I'm partial to the English breakfast: Bacon, eggs, toast, sausage, beans and tea. However, you should read the menu for yourselves. Oh, Detective Beckett, you might try the Ethiopian coffee. It's excellent."

After they ordered, O'Donnell passed out the translated copies of the reports he'd received.

"Not much new here." Jordan said after reading her copy.

"You never do know what may help, do you?"

"If you don't mind my asking, Mr. O'Donnell, how do you come to be in the loop for these reports?" Castle asked.

O'Donnell smiled. "You mean how does a poverty stricken country in the middle of a near perpetual war zone in Africa acquire any kind of first rate intelligence?"

"I wouldn't put it that way." Jordan Shaw said quickly.

"Most people would." O'Donnell said with a smile. "As I told you, there are many countries that find the idea of a world class arms dealer that can deal with governments as an equal to be…troubling. In fact, I got these from some English friends. Isn't it nice to have friends?"

After a leisurely breakfast, they drove to the hospital. Once there, Kate led the way to the hospital rooms reserved for police prisoners.

"Kate?" A familiar voice called. "Kate Beckett?"

Kate turned around and grasped Rick's arm. "Josh! How are you?"

"Busy, as always." Josh looked from Kate to Rick. "I understand congratulations are in order." Although Josh held out his hand, he did not look all that congratulatory. Rick shook his hand anyway.

"So what are all of you doing here? Police business?"

"Yes. I'm Special Agent Jordan Shaw, FBI. We're here to see a wounded prisoner."

"He must be important for so many…"Josh seemed to see the rest of the police for the first time. He took a step forward and bared his teeth in anger. "You! Get the hell out of here!"

"And I'm happy to see you again, Joshua." O'Donnell said with a broad smile. "I was afraid you'd forgotten all about me."

"Get! Out!" Josh said, heading for O'Donnell. Esposito and Ryan intercepted the doctor.

Josh turned to Jordan Shaw. "Special Agent Shaw, I insist you get this war criminal out of this hospital. Right now."

"War criminal? That's a serious charge, Dr…?"

"Davidson. Josh Davidson. I've worked with Doctors Without Borders in Democratic Republic of Congo. I know what I'm talking about."

"Odd, Joshua. Doctors Without Borders didn't seem to find your charges believable. Nor did the United Nations High Commission on Refugees, the UN military command in the Congo, or the international press. Oh, excuse me. There was one publication that took your claims quite seriously. Regrettably, Joshua, a bigger story pushed yours off their front page. Something about Bill Clinton being Elvis's love child?" 

Josh turned red and balled his fists. "I was there. I know what I saw. Your troops over ran the refugee camp and killed hundreds, thousands of people. Men, women and children. I saw that!"

O'Donnell smiled. "Joshua, you are a doctor. I am a soldier, and a diplomat. And since you have made these serious charges in front of representatives of the US government, I would like to establish my innocence."

"Your innocence! Are you insane?"

O'Donnell assumed am air of injured innocence. "If I may? When Rwanda invaded Congo in 1998, I was with the Rwandan Army. I was in fact advising the army's artillery some fifty kilometers north of the town of Goma, in the eastern Congo. Joshua's refugee camp was some twenty kilometers south of Goma, well out of range of any Rwandan artillery. Joshua, your refugees were, in fact, attacked by local Congolese militiamen. How many Rwandan Hutu soldiers were in your camp, Joshua?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Josh practically screamed.

"Your camp held some thirty five thousand people. How many were armed, uniformed soldiers?"

"I have no idea. It isn't my job to find out those things."

"Perhaps you should find these things out in the future. But, according to UNHCR records, some six to seven thousand Rwandan Hutu soldiers were in your camp. And what did they do there?"

"I was up to my ears in wounded and sick!" Josh did yell.

"What they did, was leave the camp and murder, rape and rob the Congolese in the surrounding towns and villages. They did this because they were from different tribes. In the four years since they were driven out of Rwanda and into your camp, they had murdered thousands of Congolese. That's a matter of record."

"I was trying to help people."

"By treating wounded soldiers?"

"Wounded children!"

"Have you heard the term _kadogo_, literally translated it means shorty. It's a slang term for child soldiers. Do you think a ten year old can't kill? Or a woman."

"I did not…" Josh began.

"And what about the lovely Dr. Nordgren?" O'Donnell said with a slight smile.

"What does she have to do with anything?"

"Why, Joshua. You don't remember her? You broke her nose and cracked two ribs. Her clothing was also torn, if I remember the Doctors Without Borders report correctly. Am I wrong?"

"The Congolese police didn't charge me with anything and Doctors Without Borders accepted my report on…the event."

O'Donnell laughed. "The Congolese police were running as fast as they could to the west. And your NGO got your report and…Who else's report was there? That's right. Only yours, Joshua. Only yours."

Josh reddened. "You bastard." Then he stalked off.

Jordan Shaw looked at Dr. Davidson's retreating form and then at O'Donnell. "What exactly went on in the Congo?'

O'Donnell smiled again. "I fear Joshua is severely idealistic. He sees what he wants to see, and if his patients are not seen committing rape and murder, why they can't be criminals, can they?"

"What about the other doctor?" Castle asked.

"Dr. Nordgren? A very bouncy Swede. About six feet and a hundred and forty pounds. Drank like a fish, I'm afraid. The violence got to be too much for her and she lashed out while drunk. Knocked one poor Irish doctor unconscious. Joshua managed to keep her from doing any more damage. The Swedes didn't want anyone to know their fine doctor was a violent drunk, so they kept it quiet. Of course, there were all sorts of rumors. However, we talked to witnesses. Joshua did the very best he could. Not his fault at all."

"You know, he hates to be called Joshua." Kate said.

"He does?" O'Donnell said with a look of surprise. "Duly noted. Duly noted."

The visit to Rohm was unproductive. The only words of English he seemed to have were, "Want lawyer." Which he said repeatedly.

O'Donnell spoke to him in another language which got no response from Rohm.

"What did you talk to him in?" Castle asked.

"Afrikaans. It's descended mostly from Dutch, which is closely related to German. He understood me, but he ignored me."

"What exactly did you say to him?" Shaw asked.

O'Donnell smiled broadly. "I suggested that for a man who worked in Africa, there might be worse things than making a deal with the American authorities."

"Did you put it in exactly those words?"

"Why, Agent Shaw! You aren't accusing me of threatening Mr. Rohm, are you?"

Shaw made no response.

Once outside the hospital, they walked in a loose group towards their cars. Kate heard Bredi scream, "Down!" And knocked Castle and Shaw down and landed on top of them. Bursts of automatic fire zipped overhead. Kate pushed Castle down as far as she could, then looked up. Bear, Cuchillo, and O'Donnell had taken cover behind parked cars. Ryan and Esposito were under a truck and had enough room to shoot under the truck. Bredi was standing upright, firing. She heard metal screaming and stuck her head up enough to see a black SUV crash into a parked car. A second SUV was stopped just ahead of the crash. At least four people were firing at them from both SUVs. A man rushed out of the shotgun seat of the crashed SUV. He fired a burst at the police, then pitched over on his face, blood pouring from his head.

Kate heard Bear scream, "Dammit, Martin. I need a prisoner!"

Another man left the crashed vehicle from the driver's side. He ran towards the other SUV, then suddenly fell and grabbed his leg. Kate saw Bredi reloading as a man ran from the other SUV and grabbed the wounded gunman. Before Bredi could reload, or anyone else could fire, they pulled the wounded man in and roared off.

"Dammit!" Bear yelled. Bear, Cuchillo and Bredi ran towards the crashed SUV with Espo and Ryan close behind.

Kate stood up. "Castle, are you okay."

Castle stood and checked himself out. "Yes!" he said happily. "I have no new holes in me." He looked down. "Jordan are you okay?"

"No." She gasped.

"What's wrong?" Kate and Rick said together.

"Once I would have been happy to have a rich, handsome man jump my bones, but I'm too old and too married for that now."

"Did I hurt you?" Castle asked, concern clear in his voice.

She shook her head. "All you did was knock the wind out of me and give me some bruises. Better than bullet holes, I suppose."

Castle pulled her to her feet. Kate had already headed for the crashed SUV with the other cops. Castle and Jordan Shaw followed them.

"Aw, dammit to hell!" Bear said. "Four people here, all dead. Dammit, Martin, could you at least try to take a prisoner now and again."

Bredi just shrugged.

"Oh, hell, Martin. No need to go off on me like that."

Police cars were starting to arrive in droves. Shaw took charge, directing that the dead be taken to the morgue and that CSU go over the car and the bodies with a fine tooth comb for evidence.

"Detective Beckett?" Kate turned at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Officer Hastings. What have you got for me?"

Ann Hastings pulled out a notebook. "We found an abandoned black SUV three blocks away, with bullet holes in it. One dead man."

"Oh, dammit!" Bear swore, coming over to hear the report. "Martin kills people when he hits them in the foot. It just ain't fair."

Hastings looked at Bear and then back to Kate. "The dead man was shot in the head, at close range. The gun was probably held against his head."

"Now we are dealing with some ruthless people, aren't we?" Bear said.

Hours later, Jordan Shaw called all of them into her office for a meeting. "We have absolutely nothing. We checked the dead's fingerprints and DNA and they're not in the system. Two of the dead men have stainless steel dental work, probably from Eastern Europe. If they came to this country legally, they should be in the system. They have out of state driver's licenses, all phony. They have real social security numbers, all of which belong to other people. They each had several thousand in cash on them, but no credit cards. We did ballistics on their weapons and got nothing. The cars were bought for cash, the information on the sales agreements were also false. In short, we have nothing. These people don't exist."

Jordan asked if anyone had anything useful to say, but no one did. "Okay, go home, people. Come back tomorrow and we'll try again."

When they got home, Castle poured them a glass of red wine. "Any ideas?" He asked.

She shook her head. "Not a one."

"I do, and I don't like it."

Kate frowned. "What is it?"

"Who do we know that uses untraceable professional killers?"

"Bracken? You think he ordered that? We have an agreement."

"Smith had an agreement. Look what happened to him. Bracken isn't the type to allow anyone to get in his way. He may have figured out we don't have the whole file. He may have decided to try to kill you anyway, figuring he'd kill you and lie, bribe and cheat his way out of any subsequent problems."

"Crap! What do we do?"

"I don't know. We can't take this to anyone. We have zero proof. We may be screwed." Rick put his arms around Kate and held her tight.


	11. Chapter 11

The Illustrated Man, Part 11

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: Same as before. Rating: M Time: Season Seven?

Two days had gone by since the shooting and they had gotten no new evidence at all.

"These guys just don't exist." Ryan said angrily.

"We've been wondering about that." Castle said quietly.

"What is it, bro." Esposito leaned in from his desk.

"Who do we know that has an endless supply of invisible professional killers?"

"Crap!" Espo muttered. "You think Bracken is involved in this?"

"It's his MO. Other than that, we don't have a thing on him." Castle said.

"And we can't tell anyone else, "Ryan motioned to Jordan Shaw's office, "without some kind of proof. And we have zip."

"Castle!" Beckett called from her desk. "We have one. Shooting at St. Mark's Hospital."

"St. Mark's?" Espo said, frowning. "Crap!"

"Yeah." Kate said angrily. "It's Rohm. Get Bear and his people. I'll tell Shaw. Castle, you're with me."

"Always." He said with a smile.

She smiled back. "I know."

Kate sat in an empty office in the hospital, listening to the uniform who'd been assigned to guard Rohm. Kate put her notebook down. "Let me see if I have this straight. The hospital takes patients outside to the balcony as a matter of course. The nurses came to move Rohm and you made no objection?"

"No, ma'am." The officer replied stiffly. "Rohm was in a wheelchair and could hardly walk from his hip wound. The balcony is on the fifth floor. I didn't see the harm."

"The nurse wheeled Rohm out to the balcony. You were right with him the whole time?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And then Rohm was shot by a sniper from somewhere across the street?"

"Yes, ma'am." The officer took a deep breath and went on. "I think what I did was reasonable, ma'am. The hospital has a policy of moving patients out…"

"You didn't do anything wrong." Kate interrupted. "It's not our job to second guess the doctors. And given how ruthless and powerful these people are, I think Rohm would have been dead sooner or later unless he asked us for protection. Don't worry, no one's going to blame you for this."

The officer wasn't sure of that, but he was happy to leave.

"Espo? What do you have?"

Esposito walked into Beckett's temporary office. "We found the sniper's hide and his weapon. He was in an empty apartment across the way, about four hundred meters away. The building has no doorman and no security cameras. We checked traffic cams and got nothing. The back entrance of the apartment building has a busted lock. The manager said he's been meaning to get it fixed. We're still canvassing the area, but so far, no one saw anything."

"What about the weapon?" Kate asked.

"It's a Remington 700, chambered for the Winchester .300 round, with a Leopold scope and a suppressor. The suppressor looks hand made. Hand made by a gunsmith, not some dude in his garage. In short, a professional's weapon. The fact that he left it behind indicates he's a pro as well. He can get all the equipment he wants or needs. CSU has the weapon, but I'm betting it's not in the system and we won't find any fingerprints or DNA."

"So you think we have nothing?" Kate said tiredly.

Espo nodded. He looked around then leaned in to talk to Kate privately. "Castle said you're worried it might be Bracken?"

Kate nodded. "It's his kind of work, but that's all we have. A guy like our unknown Blondie would have access to the same kind of well-trained pros. If he's worked in Africa, he can probably find them easier than Bracken can."

"Maybe we can work from Bracken's end to see if we can find anything."

Kate shook her head. "He won't be that stupid. He's not going to put an ad on Craigslist for an assassin. All we'd end up doing is reminding him that I'm still out here."

"I think the bastard knows that well enough." Espo looked around again and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Look, I know some guys. We worked together in Special Forces. They owe me and…"

Kate shook her head sharply. "No! Absolutely not. I'm a cop, Espo and so are you. We do this like cops or not at all. Besides, killing a senator? Do you have any idea what kind of an investigation that would lead to? Forget it."

"If you say so."

"I say so."

Espo turned out to be right. Aside from some vague reports of a guy in the neighborhood that no one could describe, the killer had left no evidence behind him. The investigation dragged on for days with no further action.

"Detective Beckett?" Karpowski called to Kate.

Kate turned around. "Yes?"

"That UN diplomat that came to see you is here again. He's downstairs at the desk. He wants to see you."

"Have him come up." Kate hoped the diplomat had some new evidence.

O'Donnell got out of the elevator and strode to Kate's desk. "Detective Beckett. Mr. Castle, good to see you again. I may have something for you, but I need to talk to Special Agent Shaw, if I could. Is she in?"

"Sure." Kate replied. "I'll take you to see her."

When they got to the door of Shaw's office, O'Donnell turned to Kate. "I'm afraid I'll have to talk to Agent Shaw alone." O'Donnell shut the door and Kate walked back to her desk.

"What's that all about?" Castle asked.

"I don't know." Kate smiled at her husband. "Something the Feds have to approve, I'd guess." The two looked towards Shaw's office and were disappointed when she shut the blinds.

After twenty minutes O'Donnell and Shaw came out of her office and walked over to Kate's desk. All the police gathered around.

"Beckett, Castle, I want you two to go and see the subject that Mr. O'Donnell found for us." The other police immediately complained about being left out.

"Hey!" O'Donnell barked. "This gentleman is helping us out and this is the way he wants it."

"Then that's the way he gets it. Ready Castle?" Kate asked.

In five minutes they were in Kate's Crown Vic headed for an address in Brooklyn. O'Donnell sat in the back seat. "I got all my feelers out to every intelligence agency I know, and where do I find my source? I'm drinking with an old buddy of mine, I mention Blondie and the guy asks me, what do I want to know about the bastard? Strange world, isn't it?"

"Is there some reason you had to run this by the Feds?" Castle asked.

"Sure. My friend may have slightly bent some minor laws in his day. The government knows about him and decided he's not worth the effort of prosecuting. I just needed to know that still how it is."

"Slightly bent?" Kate asked with just a bit of sarcasm.

"Hardly noticeable, Detective."

"If you say so." Castle said.

They pulled up in front of an apartment block in an average middle class section of Brooklyn. O'Donnell hit the buzzer at the front door and someone inside buzzed hem in. The apartment was on the second floor. It was a reasonably well furnished and well maintained. Both Kate and Rick noticed the crowded bookcases in the living room.

"Detective Beckett, Mr. Castle, this is Jim Ross, a friend of mine." O'Donnell introduced them.

Ross looked to be in his mid-sixties, going bald in front, average height but heavily built and in good shape. "You really are Richard Castle." He said shaking Rick's hand. "And that makes you the model for Nikki Heat." He shook Kate's hand as well. "Damned glad to meet the two of you. I'm a fan, if you couldn't tell."

"Jim, we can gush over the celebrities later." O'Donnell said. "Can we get down to business?"

"Sure, sure. Sit down, everyone. Anyone want a beer?" Kate and Rick declined, being on duty, but O'Donnell accepted.

Finally, everyone was seated and ready.

"I guess I should start at the beginning, so you'll know how I got to know Blondie." Ross stopped and thought for a moment. "I graduated from high school in '63. I had no idea what I was going to do with my life. Then the government made a decision for me. I got drafted in August '64. A year later I was headed for Viet Nam with the First Cav. First of the Eighth Cav, one of two airborne battalions in the Cav. I was good at it. God help me, I liked it. I reenlisted and went back. This time with the 11th Armored Cav, the Black Horse. Went back a third time, this time as a lurp."

"Lurp" Kate asked.

"Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol, L-R-R-P, pronounced lurp. Company F, 51st Infantry, (Airborne), II Field Force." Ross stopped speaking and looked off over their heads, seeing something no longer there.

"Jim?" O'Donnell prompted.

"Yeah. Sorry. I had me a little senior moment there. Anyway, I got out in '73. The Army told me they weren't going to send me back for a fourth tour in 'Nam until everyone else in the Army had done three tours, too. Sorry, sergeant, they said, it's policy. I looked around and decided I wanted no part of peacetime soldiering. I had been in touch with a friend of mine in Africa, so two months after separating, I was in Rhodesia. I served in the Rhodesian Light Infantry, 3 Commando, with a lot of other non-Rhodesians. Most were South Africans, but we had British, Americans, Canadians, Aussies…Hell, people from all over. I was there for seven years until Rhodesia went out of business and was replaced by Zimbabwe."

Ross shrugged. "So I moved on. I crossed the border into South Africa and looked for another war. I found one in South West Africa. I ran a platoon of Flechas, African Bushmen from Angola that had been run out of their own country when Portugal pulled out of Africa in '74 and moved across the border. Good trackers, good troops." Again, Ross looked at something not there. "Anyway, that lasted until '90. Then South West Africa became Namibia and I was out of a job."

"That was the first time I retired. I got me a job in South Africa. I was driving a truck for a winery. Fair money, good hours, nice people. I hated it. I damned near died of boredom. So I went looking for another war. Found one, too. Ever hear of Executive Outcomes?"

Both Castle and Kate shook their heads.

"It's what's called a private military company. In other words, mercenaries. I went to Angola to fight in '92 and then to Sierra Leone to fight in the civil war there. I eventually ended up in the Democratic Republic of Congo working for a Jean-Pierre Bemba. He was a local politician/warlord in the north east Congo, mostly Equateur province. Very rich, very powerful and crooked as hell, but what politician isn't? But he paid well."

O'Donnell interrupted. "I think that Jim should be clear that he did not work in any military capacity for Bemba. That would be a violation of US law."

"Oh, absolutely." Ross said with a laugh.

"And your service in Rhodesia, and South West Africa and elsewhere isn't a violation?" Kate asked,

"Statute of limitations have run on the old ones and the more recent ones, well, let's just say I did some work for a certain US agency and they don't want anyone knowing about that. The Congo is a different story, though."

Kate and Rick exchanged glances, but said nothing.

"You two ever hear of the Great War of Africa?" Ross asked.

Kate shook her head, but Rick nodded. "I've heard of it, but that's about all."

Ross nodded. "It was fought in the Congo between '98 and '03. It involved nine African nations and maybe twenty or so rebel movements in various countries. Nobody really knows how many people died in that war. Estimates run from about a million to over five million. Anyway, my boss, Mr. Bemba rebelled against the Congo government and got help from Uganda. Now just about everyone who wanted to "help" one side or the other had an ulterior motive, mainly to loot whatever they could of the Congo's wealth. Uganda was no different. Ugandan generals in the Congo made millions by stealing natural resources of the Congo. But, all good things end. A peace agreement was reached that required all foreign armies to leave the Congo. That left a large number of Ugandan generals in the Congo with millions of dollars in the Congo that they had to get out to someplace safe. One group put their money together, bought diamonds and got a plane to take one of their number to Europe where he was to sell the diamonds and put the proceeds into a nice, safe Swiss bank."

"They sound awfully trusting, sending one man." Castle said.

Ross laughed. "Oh, they picked a man with family back in Uganda. Told him what would happen if he screwed them. They also had a man familiar with selling diamonds and setting up Swiss bank accounts to go along. That was James Calvert. Calvert was a big fan of Clint Eastwood movies, especially the spaghetti westerns. Guess what his nickname was?"

"Blondie!" Rick and Kate said together.

"You bet." Ross said. "It was Calvert that brought me into the Great Congo Diamond Heist. He decided that there was no reason for a bunch of corrupt generals to get so rich. So, he recruited me, a Frenchman named Paul Gilles, a South African called Joe Welch and three black South African soldiers working in the Congo."

"The plan was simple. The generals were going to fly their loot out of the Congo in an old Dakota, a C-47 to you, and land in Brazzaville in the former French Congo. From there their courier would go by an airliner on a diplomatic passport and make them all rich. They had about fifty million dollars or so worth of diamonds, mostly industrial grade but some gem grade, all sewn up in leather bags. The courier arrived with a half a dozen bodyguards and his loot. We ambushed them. Killed them all. Then Calvert ambushed us. We were so damned greedy, we ran for the car the diamonds were in. Calvert opened up on us with a machine gun. Gilles and the three South Africans were killed and Welch was wounded. I managed to grab a bag of diamonds and Welch, and headed for the bush."

"How much did you get?" Rick asked.

"There was about five million dollars' worth in the bag." Ross said.

Rick looked around sat the apartment. "Not much for man worth five million."

Ross nodded. "Five million dollars' worth of diamonds isn't so much when the Ugandan army is chasing you. I had to pay bribes to get out of the Congo, and I had to bribe a Congolese bureaucrat so that he'd certify that I wasn't selling "conflict diamonds", which I was, of course. I sent a hundred thousand apiece to the families of the South African soldiers killed and a third of the rest to Gilles' widow. After I paid for Welch's medical care, and gave him his share, I left Africa and landed in New York with about half a million to my name. I live off the interest, plus Social Security and some VA benefits from my injuries in Nam. I've also written a couple of books about the wars in Africa, although I've had nothing like your success, Mr. Castle."

"You're a writer?" Rick asked.

"Sure, I'll be happy to autograph my books, if you'll autograph my copies of your books."

"Deal." Rick said quickly.

"Hey! I was just kidding. I never expected you to want any of my books."

"I support writers whenever I can. And, as my dear wife knows, I always know a guy. Someday I may need background for Africa for a book and I'll know you."

"I hate to interrupt a writer's mutual admiration society, "Kate said, "but could you tell us all you know about Mr. Calvert? And can you sit with a police artist and describe him."

"I can do better than that." Ross said with a cold smile. "Before I left the Congo, I paid some more bribes. Some to Bemba's intelligence people and some to Ugandan intelligence." Ross stood and walked over to his bookcase. He came back with two file folders. "I got all they had on Calvert. You don't need an artist's sketch of Calvert, I have some photos of him, and his fingerprints." Ross handed the files to Kate.

They rushed back to the precinct with their new evidence, but were soon disappointed.

Two days later, they sat in Jordan Shaw's office, reviewing what they had.

"His fingerprints aren't in the system and his photos didn't get any hits on the facial recognition databases we have. Even the CIA was negative." Shaw said.

"Damn!" Kate said under her breath.

"It does give us a place to start, though." Shaw went on. "He must have come into this country illegally, which means we can ask the Border and Customs to look into any chatter they may have heard about a rich illegal coming into the country. In the meantime, we have another killing in Brooklyn. A Lebanese arms merchant named Aoun. Go to it, people."

Kate and her team found that the crime scene was a small hotel, and a nice one at that.

To Kate's surprise, O'Donnell was at the crime scene with another man. O'Donnell called the team over and introduced the man as Mr. Brown. Brown was tall and skinny, with receding sandy hair and warm brown eyes. He was dressed in what would Kate would have called Casual Friday. Tan slacks, a light blue shirt with a striped tie and a dark blue sport coat.

"Mr. Brown is with OGA." O'Donnell said.

"OGA?" Kate asked.

"Other Government Agency." Castle whispered in her ear.

She turned to Rick. "What?"

He pulled her a little way away. "Kate, out there, down range, as they say, there are only two government agencies that count. One is the Department of Defense, the DOD, and the other is the Other Government Agency."

"The CIA?" Kate asked. "Then why didn't they say so?"

"So they don't have to lie to you by denying that Mr. Brown works for the CIA."

Kate shrugged and walked over to O'Donnell and Brown. "Mr. Brown, can you tell us anything about Mr. Aoun?"

Brown nodded. "Michel Aoun, a Lebanese Christian. Was a low level arms merchant. Before the Syrian civil war, he was strictly small time. He'd sell a truckload or two of AK-47s and RPGs to splinter groups, local politicians and warlords. The big boys get their weapons for free from governments. But when things in Syria went haywire, he was asked by the Saudi's to supply arms to the rebels in Syria. He did a good job, and got bigger and bigger jobs, and made more and more money. When last we heard, he was in Qatar, that's one of the countries supporting the rebels. But he moves around a lot."

"Any idea why he was in New York?" Kate asked.

Brown shook his head. "No idea and he had no real reason to be. He was a very busy man in the Middle East. We can't think of any reason he'd come here."

Kate handed Mr. Brown her card. "If you hear anything else, please call me." Brown nodded and said that he would.

Once inside Aoun's room she found Lanie just finishing up."

"Cause of death?" She asked.

"Preliminary is a small caliber GSW to the back of the head. Close range."

"He knew the killer?" Castle asked.

"Good guess. No signs of forced entry, no signs of a struggle. He let his killer in, turned and walked away and boom!" Lanie replied.

"Security cameras?" She asked Espo. "Am upscale place like this must have them all over."

Espo shook his head. "According to the manager, the upscale people who stay here don't like cameras. So, they don't have any."

"Okay, we'll have to interview the staff and the tenants, see if anyone saw anything."

Again, they found no evidence. CSU reported the crime scene to be completely negative.

Several days later O'Donnell, Mr. Brown and several Fed-looking people came to the precinct and went directly to Jordan Shaw's office.

"What's up?" Bear asked as he and his people crowded around the desks of Kate's team. "I don't know." She replied. "They walked in without saying a word. Although O'Donnell did smile at me."

"Should I be worried?" Castle asked.

"No." Kate said.

After a half an hour, O'Donnell stuck his head out of Shaw's office and called for everyone to come in. When everyone was seated, he spoke. "I have a cunning plan." He said, then stopped to look around.

"Mr. Baldric, I presume?" Castle said.

"No, still O'Donnell, but I do have a plan that I've run by Mr. Brown's people and various other interested parties. " He gestured to the other Feds sitting stone faced. "And everyone…accepts my idea." He looked around as if expecting an argument. Finding none, he went on. "As you may know, Rwanda is very poor country, located in the middle of war-torn Africa. Our air force is almost all helicopters with some light fixed wing aircraft. We have no fighter jets of any sort and not much chance of affording any in the near future. However, some of our less than friendly neighbors do have combat aircraft. We've been after the US to sell us some Stinger MANPADS."

"MANPADS?" Kate asked.

"Man portable air defense systems. Shoulder fired anti-aircraft missiles. A relatively cheap way to keep out better armed neighbors at bay."

"So?" Bear asked.

"We have gotten permission from…Um, certain Federal agencies to approach Mr. Calvert for some Stingers. It'll be a major deal, in the tens of millions of dollars. But, being a poor country as we are, we aren't going to hand over our money without some guarantees. Number one will be a meet with Calvert himself, to establish his bon fides. Once we know where he'll be, you can sweep in and arrest him."

"And Rwanda gets what?" Kate asked.

O'Donnell smiled at Kate. "Oh, very good, detective. You knew to ask that question. Why we get some Stingers, of course. Assuming he has the real thing."

"How long will this take to set up?" Jordan asked.

O'Donnell shrugged. "It'll take as long as it takes."

O'Donnell and the Feds left. The precinct settled back down to its usual routine. The Calvert case was put in the back burner, but not forgotten. Other murders occurred and were solved. Or were not solved. Then they got a phone call.

"Hey! Detective Beckett! It's me, Hugh O'Donnell. Wanna come over to the UN and listen to Calvert?"

Kate waved to Rick, which drew the attention of Esposito and Ryan. Bear and his team noticed and that eventually brought Jordan Shaw out of her office.

"I'd love to, but you know I don't go anywhere without my husband." She said pleasantly.

"Oh, I wasn't asking you out. I expect that you'd bring Castle, and that Esposito, and Ryan, and Bear and his friends. But I really want you to bring that hot Fed, Jordan Shaw."

Shaw blushed slightly. "O'Donnell, I'm right here. And like Detective Kate Beckett Castle, I'm very married."

O'Donnell laughed loudly. "Why you're right there? I had no idea."

"Okay." Shaw said, smiling slightly. "Tell me what you've got."

"Calvert has agreed to a phone meeting. We've been dealing through intermediaries, but we've told him we want a face to face. He isn't happy with it and would like to talk us out of it."

"When?" Shaw asked.

"Ten AM tomorrow. Tell you what, I'll make up some primo Ethiopian coffee if you provide the donuts."

"It's a date. Do you need any equipment to trace his call?"

"I doubt if it'll be traceable, but Mr. Brown is sending his friend, Mr. Green, by with some stuff. I hear it's top of the line."

"I suppose it is." Shaw conceded. "We'll see you tomorrow."

Shaw turned to the rest of the detectives. "I want to make sure that this does _not_ get screwed up. It would be too easy for Calvert to stake out the UN, or even have people inside to check on what O'Donnell's doing, so we are _not_ all going to see O'Donnell."

The complaints that began were stopped by Shaw's glare, which matched Kate's best. "Detective Beckett and Mr. Castle will go by themselves. Castle looks less like a cop than anyone here, but we do need a cop with him. That means Beckett."

"Can we at least keep an eye on them?" Esposito asked.

"From a distance, and I do mean a distance."

"You okay with this, Castle?" Kate asked.

"Sure, what could go wrong at the UN?"


End file.
